Mega Man X: Maverick Hunters
by Erico
Summary: A few short months after the Third Maverick Uprising at Dopplertown, Repliforce is forged, the GDC gets pushy, and the Maverick Hunters play catch-up. And in the middle stands an untested, untried team of Maverick Hunters: Zephyr Team.
1. Prologue: Paradigm Shift

_**MEGA MAN X: MAVERICK HUNTERS**_

By the Legacy of Metal Co-Authors

(Erico, Magus523, Revokov, RoyFokker99, and Maelgrim)

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue: Paradigm Shift<strong>

_New Amsterdam, GDC H.Q._

_February 21st, 2128 C.E._

_10:03 A.M._

"Today marks a momentous occasion in the history of this international organization." The currently elected head of the GDC, or Global Defense Council, was in high spirits as he stood behind his podium.

At GDC Headquarters, Secretary General Massoud Chevalier was the supreme authority. He was also worldly enough that his native Moroccan accent only reared its head when he grew angry. Anger was the farthest emotion from his mind today.

Beside him, standing at attention in front of the entire assembly, a gargantuan reploid in golden armor stood as Chevalier's centerpiece. Being the size of two and a half stories of skyscraper had that effect on people, and the stoic General knew full well why he had been designed to that stature.

Secretary General Chevalier gestured to the golden goliath. "In our world, we face many troubles. Not only do nations still bicker and quarrel with one another over the same tired arguments of blood, land, and resources, but Mavericks constantly rear their heads. We live in a new age of warfare, where nations hurl men of metal skin and silicon minds at one another. The Maverick Hunters are a storied and skilled group of specialized troopers, but recent events have made it clear that we cannot rely on them alone to protect us. It was with this sad fact in mind that the GDC Security Council created a new branch of our military…the reploid forces, or "Repliforce."

"The reploid before you is called General. He is the commanding officer of Repliforce, and the pride of our research and development teams. He has been working, behind the scenes, to get Repliforce prepared for their mission. And as I have said, today will be memorable."

General came out of parade rest, his large padded boots thumping heavily at the front of the GDC's hall. "As of this morning, Repliforce is fully online and operational. While we will not replace existing forces, it is my intention to prove that we can be as effective as the GDC's troops…and in the case of Maverick suppression, a more reliable deterrent than existing organizations. Reploidkind has long been seen as a subclass in the world. This is why Repliforce will succeed. Just as humans of minority, differing religions, and sexual orientation have done before, we will earn the acceptance of the world by our service."

General raised his gargantuan arm up, and saluted the congregation. "The Repliforce hereby reports for duty."

The cheers and applause were slow at first, but soon gained speed and volume. General took it as a sign.

In time…they would be equals.

* * *

><p><em>Maverick Hunter Headquarters<em>

_New Tokyo, Japan_

Dr. James T. Cain clicked the monitor off and turned to look at his two guests. Without the glare of the television, the soft blue lighting in his office was almost relaxing. Most days.

This wasn't one of them.

"Okay boys. So what do you think?" He addressed the question to a hunter in blue and a hunter in red: Mega Man X and Zero Omega, the two best Maverick Hunters. If anything, they were the ones that ran the place. What they didn't do was mostly paperwork and PR, and Cain was used to fielding those responsibilities.

The straight-laced Hunter in blue armor looked at his more wild-seeming, blond-haired counterpart. Zero arched an eyebrow, indicating X should make the first remark.

"I think that those two did a terrific job in slamming our reputation while they were praising us." X diplomatically remarked.

"Add more swear words, and that's what I'd say." Zero grunted.

Cain, an old man who clung to life with a vice grip in his waning years, snorted and smiled. "When you two are on the same page, I listen a little better. All right. Long story short, the GDC's never been happy with the autonomy I've carefully preserved over our ten years of operations. The official word is that Repliforce isn't replacing the Maverick Hunters, but you can't be sure it's not in their game plan somewhere down the line. They've got a better grip on this Repliforce than they ever had on us."

"At least Cristoph kept his face out of this press conference." X reasoned.

"After the stink he made four years ago, he oughta." Zero sniped.

"And now for the part you're going to hate." Cain went on. "I had a very exhausting shouting match with our GDC liaison about _not_ reducing our budget. Some apparently feel that the Hunters should be receiving less money, with Repliforce taking on some of the responsibility."

"Wait, they pay us?" Zero was surprised. "I thought your reploid patent royalties covered all of this."

Cain snorted. "Part of it. Our annual stipend from the GDC also includes first look at their new technologies and a discount. Without it, we could run the Hunters only in a limited capacity. I kept our budget safe, but I had to make a concession."

"Here it comes." X shook his head.

"In exchange for their _"continued__ benevolent __assistance"_, I've allowed the GDC to field a greater presence in our institution."

"In English. Or Japanese, even." Zero drummed his fingers on the side of his arm.

"I think Cain's saying that the GDC is going to put their people in the MHHQ." X explained. The Blue Bomber of 21XX folded his arms. "In what capacity, I wonder?"

"Relax, nobody's being replaced." Cain groused. "I made sure of that. And nobody's going to have to field a GDC flunkie in their unit. But they will be Maverick Hunting."

"How's that going to work?" Zero puzzled it out. "You giving them their own unit or something?" He laughed at the sad joke, but the noise died out when Cain looked at him with a straight face. "Oh, you're kidding me!"

"I'm afraid not, Zero. That was the compromise. Currently, we field seventeen Maverick Hunting units out of the MHHQ; Units 2 through 17, and your Special Forces Unit 0. I'm authorizing the creation of the 18th Maverick Hunting unit. Their designation will be **Zephyr**** Team.**"

"How many people are they sending us?" X asked.

Cain held up his hand, fingers outstretched. He added one more finger from his other hand. "Six."

"I was expecting more than six." X blinked. "Did you talk them down?"

"I convinced them that additional support personnel were unnecessary, seeing as we keep our own staff on site. As it is, they intend to send a squad commander, four reploid troopers from various divisions, and something they call, uh…a Navigator."

"What the fu...what's a Navigator?" Zero asked incredulously. "They gonna be flying planes a lot?"

"Hell's bells, Zero, you think I know?" Cain got up out of his chair and straightened out his blue and red robe. The old man reached for his walking stick and plodded over to the corner of his office, where an odd-shaped fishbowl resided. "All that Gervais said was this "Navigator" was an information systems analyst. You can read into that what you want to."

Zero rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"All right. It sounds like you've got this all worked out then, Dr. Cain." X jumped in. "So why bother to tell us all this?"

"So you could be my sounding board, boys. Like always." Cain opened up a small bottle of fish food and shook some out for the fishbowl's singular resident, a goldfish in a series of goldfish that all shared the name Sigma II. "How do you think the others here are going to take this?"

"The same way they always take bad news." Zero groused. "They'll rant, they'll rave, they'll get drunk, and Hazil will get to spend a few days patching them up after they're done fighting each other."

"When will they get here?" X ignored Zero's derisive response.

"A few days." Cain sighed. "Can you two put the word out for me?"

"Yeah. You having headaches again?"

"It's nothing, X. Just part of the job." Cain waved off his concern. "You and Zero get going. There's a dust-up in Cairo, and my guess is that the 14th Unit is going to need some backup soon."

X and Zero stood up and headed out of Cain's office, leaving the old man to tend his goldfish. "Why do I get the feeling that the GDC blames us for the Third Uprising?" Zero asked, once the door to Cain's office had hissed shut and they were out of earshot. "Is this their way of hanging a crap sandwich around our neck?"

"I don't think you can blame anyone for the Third Uprising." X soothed his friend's overworked aggression. "We all bought into Doppler's lie. It's gonna take years before the fallout from that settles. I'm more worried about this Repliforce than I am this new Zephyr unit."

"It's more like a team." Zero argued. "Hell, a whole unit is twenty guys and their CO. How does the GDC think that four guys, a commander, and a _Navigator_ are going to make a dent at all?"

X gave his longtime friend and ally a long look with his upraised eyebrow before speaking again. "I took down two Uprisings almost completely on my own, Zero."

"I helped your ass with the first one."

"That's why I said almost. Look, a lot of people are going to be expecting them to fail. I can't say I much like the notion of the GDC having a team here, but seeing as I can't change it, I can at least watch with an open mind."

Zero shook his head and walked faster. "You do that, X. You're the better optimist. I'll put the word out. Anything to get away from that office quicker."

"You don't like Cain's office?"

"It's that fishbowl of his. Why in God's name did he make it out of Armored Armadillo's shell?"

"Why did he name his goldfish after the reploid we used to call Supreme Commander?" X shrugged his shoulders. "Cain's human. And humans do crazy things."

"Like shove Zephyr unit down our throats." Zero concluded, triggering his dash boots. He tore down the hall, forcing the MHHQ staff to jump out of his way.

X came to a halt and coughed out the dust storm Zero had kicked up in his wake. He waved the air away from his face and made a face. "Showoff."

One of the technicians who'd been walking behind them came up and prodded his shoulder. "Is something wrong, Commander X?"

"Just life." X said, offering a weak smile. "It's always changing on you."

And things were certainly about to change at the MHHQ.


	2. Reassignment

_**MEGA MAN X: MAVERICK HUNTERS**_

By the Legacy of Metal Co-Authors

**Chapter One: Reassignment**

"_I have known men of stone and mortar in my time, they who crumbled at the first hardship. But I have also known men of iron, who never stop marching forward. They are the ones who will outlive us all, in life and legacy." _

_-Marth Fehzim, Second Rainbow Geologist, 2069 C.E._

* * *

><p><em>Maverick Hunter Headquarters (MHHQ)<em>

_New Tokyo, Japan_

_February 24th, 2128 C.E._

_9:31 A.M._

Maverick Hunter Headquarters was located—strategically—six kilometers outside of the city center of New Tokyo. While that had once meant that it had been situated in an almost pastoral setting, much of that had been eaten away by development. Most noticeably, a bus depot, complete with its own row of fast food stalls and coffee shops stood a mere 100 meters from the fenced in grounds of the fabled institution.

An electric transport, powered by deep cycle hydrogen cells a year beyond their manufacturer's suggested service window, ground its way up the sloping highway away from New Tokyo with a whine of protest. It wasn't far from its stopoff, but the journey had worn it out, and it was sagging on its rear axles.

The reason for that was a reploid of goliath stature, standing seven feet tall. The barrel-chested reploid wore silver and gunmetal gray armor, and took up the space of three people on the back bench of the bus. Two middle-aged women, each taking an end, tried to edge away from him without much success. Their unease came largely from his size, but there was the matter of the shoulder-mounted cannon just off of the right side of his head as well, and that sort of hardware wasn't good for the nerves of housewives.

He had looked back at them when he'd first gotten aboard at the airport depot, but now it suited him more to simply ignore the glances and whispers from the seats in front of him, and smile to himself about the silly women he was sitting by. With his mouth hidden behind the retractable faceguard of his helmet, smiling came easily.

With a squeal of its brakes…a prolonged shriek that lasted from the highway off-ramp to the bus depot a quarter kilometer after…the transport finally came to a lurching halt.

"Maverikku Huntah Headqwahtah!" The bus driver called out in horribly garbled English.

The silver and gray reploid sighed and stood up, causing the whole bus to lurch from side to side. Amidst the voices of protest, he reached above him, more straight across at his height, and removed a single luggage bag from the overhead.

"Looks like this is my stop." He said, more for his own pleasure than the benefit of the crones who shrank away from him. With one footfall after another, shaking the bus with every step, the reploid moved to the front and stepped down from the stairs.

The vehicle literally sprang back to attention as soon as his weight was off of it, and the door slammed shut behind him. The much healthier sounding bus roared away from the station, leaving the silver reploid alone with his thoughts.

He walked at his own pace down the road, away from the bus stop and towards what many affectionately called the MHHQ. It wasn't so much of a run or a march as it was a steady, unhurried plodding. After all, he reasoned, MHHQ had been standing for 10 years now. It could manage another few minutes without him. And there was that old joke his former squadmates always teased him about.

_Where__ does __a __bear__ sleep?__ Wherever __it __wants __to._

Actually, he wasn't sure how that joke applied in this situation, but it had always done a fair job of summing him up. That sense of self, something so many reploids didn't have, was probably his most prized intangible possession.

On the other side of the fence, he could make out several buildings in the compound. The main one, a circular building many stories tall, was his ultimate destination. A minute or so later, he reached the front gates of the MHHQ. The road leading into the complex had a single guard station and a retractable spike strip. No gate and no keycard or RFID entry, which seemed strange to him. Strange, until he spotted a pair of telltale metal domes buried in the ground nearby. Automated defense turrets in standby mode.

Cautiously, he walked up to the guard shack and waved at its lone occupant. A somewhat bored looking reploid in violet armor glanced up from his perch and nodded once. "Yeah?"

"Okay if I go in?" The silver-armored reploid asked. "Those turrets won't open fire on me, right?"

"You a Maverick?"

"…No, last time I checked, I wasn't."

"Then they won't shoot at you." The guard smirked. "You joining up with the Hunters, then?"

The shoulder-cannon wielding reploid in silver gave his head a slow shake. "No…transferring."

* * *

><p>The gate guard had waved him on ahead, and the towering reploid soon learned that his presence wasn't very welcome within the Maverick Hunter Headquarters. As soon as he'd explained to the receptionist in the front lobby that he was being transferred to the 18th Unit, the air had gone frosty in a hurry. After a long stare, the receptionist had keyed her headset and requested "Commander X" to report to the front lobby.<p>

The silver-armored reploid was left to shuffle from one foot to the other, waiting for his escort to arrive. And what an escort. Mega Man X himself, the Blue Bomber. The hero of the Maverick Hunters.

Nervously, he glanced to the receptionist. "So, what's X like?"

The receptionist, a hardnosed human male, stared at him once before returning back to his work. The waiting reploid rolled his eyes. "Silent treatment it is, then."

Finally, the waiting ended as the turbolift doors ahead of him opened, and the azure Hunter stepped off. He was every inch the lean and capable Maverick Hunter he seemed in the holo newsreels. Blue-green eyes glanced around the room before settling on the figurative elephant in the room, and X took one measured stride after another until he was looking up into the face of their newest recruit. The difference in height was noticeable.

"You one of the GDC transfers, then?" X asked.

The large reploid nodded and held out a hand. "Sergeant Major Nils, 4th Battalion, GDC Eurobloc, Switzerland."

"Formerly, you mean." X corrected him, shaking the towering reploid's hamfist. "Now that you're in the Hunters, we go by a different ranking system."

"Yes, I figured." Nils looked around again. "Am I late reporting in? My bus was dragging on the drive out."

"Well, you're not the first to get here, if that's what you mean." X shrugged. He turned around and gestured to Nils. "Come on, I'll walk you up to the others."

"Yes, that would be terrific. I feel a little unwelcome."

"You'll get that." X mused. "The folks around here, they're not too keen on this whole notion of having GDC reploids working here."

"I don't suppose it would help if I told them I was just following orders?" Nils offered jokingly. He and X both stepped onto the freight-capable turbolift, and X punched their floor destination before looking up and raising an eyebrow. Nils' half smile died quickly. "I thought as much." The lift doors shut, and the motor hummed as they started to move.

"When I first started Maverick Hunting, politics was the farthest thing in my mind. It's become a necessity anymore, dealing with it." X offered. "You, and the others of Zephyr Team, are here by political pressure. So no, I wouldn't expect anybody to offer to buy you drinks for a while."

"We'll see about that." Nils folded his arms behind him. "So, in the meantime, who should I get to know first?"

"Well, there's myself and Zero, of course…Dr. Cain, who's turned into a curmudgeon in his old age. You'll want to stop by the Medical Bay and introduce yourself to Hazil and his staff soon; wouldn't do to have your first hello with him being when you get wheeled in for surgery."

"You inspire me with confidence." Nils winced.

Mega Man X grunted. "We lose a lot of Hunters around here on their first five missions. The ones that survive past that window are the ones worth paying attention to. This isn't a game, Nils. The Mavericks we go up against can run from the disaffected workers running protests to full bore, Virus-infected berserkers. You never know what you'll be going up against from one day to the next. We try to spread out the workload, but there are stretches where the work seems endless."

Nils blinked. X seemed to be waiting for an answer, and the Swiss reploid didn't give him one. X finally looked up. "Does that worry you?"

"If you're trying to scare me off, Commander, you'll have to try harder than that." Nils grunted. "I've seen my share of firefights."

X cracked a little smile. "Am I that transparent?"

"No, not really." Nils slapped X on the back lightly, which still sent the azure Hunter stumbling forward a step. "My orders just didn't leave a lot of room for argument."

"You're very sociable, you know that?"

"So people have told me." Nils chuckled. "I like to step into the local watering hole once I'm off duty. You know of any good spots here in the city?"

"We have our own bar right on base."

"No kidding?" Nils' eyes widened. "That's really thoughtful of you."

"Not so much. Dr. Cain just got tired of paying for the damages, so he put one in here, where we can keep an eye on things."

The turbolift slowed down, then stopped. The doors slid open, and X stepped off. "Fifth floor, Nils. You and the rest of Zephyr Team have been stationed in Beta Corridor."

"Uh, right." Nils rubbed the back of his helmet. "Remind me. This building has…"

X blinked. "The main building of the Maverick Hunter Headquarters has eleven floors, a basement, and a sub-basement. Underground passageways link it to the barracks annex, the hangar bay, main meeting hall, and our defense batteries." All of those structures, Nils remembered from his own very brief research, formed a six-way nexus like a lawman's badge from several hundred years ago, with the gate at the south point and their memorial garden to the north.

"So, Zephyr Team's the newest to join up. How come you're putting us here in the main building instead of housing us in the annex?"

X gave Nils another look, and the silver-armored reploid finally read between the lines.

_Because__ they__ want __to __keep __an __eye __on __us._

"Come on." X said, pulling Nils back to reality. "Your new Commander wanted to start this meet and greet as soon as possible." Bidden by a reploid…no, no, X considered himself a _robot_, not a reploid…his superior by ability and experience, Nils nodded once and plodded along behind the cerulean warrior. His loud footfalls masked the quieter _thump-thumps_ of X's boots.

5-B, as the signs on the walls indicated Beta Corridor on the fifth floor after they passed through a security scanner, was painted a pale blue, almost off-white. There was a momentary chime when Nils crouched down and sidestepped through the doorframed device, and X held up a hand.

"Hang on a second. I forgot we had to clear you." He reached down to a recessed panel in the scanner and punched in a button. "Command override 17-Alpha; cleared for this site."

_"__Authorization __accepted.__"_ The machine replied. X nodded and looked to Nils. "It registered your warp signature. You now have access to 5-B and the general service areas of the MHHQ."

"I didn't warp, though." Nils protested. "How could it…" X started to put on a funny _I __know __more __than __you __do_ look, and Nils sighed. "Never mind."

Another seven meters took them to a nondescript doorway that lacked a sign. X knocked on the door, and a gruff, accented voice answered. "Enter!"

The door responded to the call and slid open. X stepped to the side and motioned to Nils. "Go on ahead."

The silver and gunmetal gray goliath shrugged once, then stepped inside. He came to attention and brought his arm up to a crisp salute. "Reporting for duty, Commander."

The "Commander" of Zephyr Team was standing with his back to the door, examining several documents laid out on the sparse office's metal desk. A thick, black, winterized longcoat covered him from his neck all the way down to a pair of conspicuous metallic boots at the floor. He stood six feet tall, and his black and pepper gray hair was trimmed in a short, spiked, military style.

The Commander seemed to tense up as Nils announced himself, and there was a long pause where neither moved. The more Nils thought, the more a strange sense of familiarity started to kick in.

Slowly, Zephyr Team's Commander turned, displaying his face. A dark black eyepatch secured to his ear demanded immediate attention, as did the faint scar that ran down from it. There was a hardness in his face, and the lines and artificial cheekbones of Slavic heritage. His one good eye, the right one, brown in color, blinked and squinted.

He and Nils both finally spoke at the same time, their words overlapping.

"Goat?" "Volya?"

Nils broke out into a wide smile. "By God, it _is _you! Volya, how've you been? I haven't seen you in two years!"

The cyclopean reploid stepped quickly over in front of his gargantuan counterpart and held out his hand. His voice came out thick and gravelly. "I've been better and worse, old friend."

Stunned, X finally joined the conversation. "You two know each other?"

"Of course!" Nils beamed, motioning to his new leader. "Volya…sorry, _Commander_ Volya was with the Russian Spetsnaz when I met him. We worked together on some joint missions and training exercises before. How did you get him here?"

"Same way they got you, I would think." Volya chuckled, looking bemused. "I was given orders. So, Goat, it would seem that we shall be fighting together once more, eh? I see you still carry that ridiculous shoulder cannon of yours."

"Yes, and you still haven't gotten that eye replaced, old man." Nils slapped Volya on the shoulder, and the Russian reploid endured the punch with less sway than X had. Of course, X thought, Volya had braced himself before the hit; he'd expected it.

"Replacing it would be too much of a bother. I am not greatly hindered by its absence." Volya tucked his hands into the pockets of his longcoat. "So, then. I was told there would be one more team member arriving. Now that you are here, we are all accounted for, except for this…ah…" Volya frowned and walked back to his desk, looking at the papers before stabbing at a word. "Navigator. Da." He looked over to X. "Has this Navigator arrived?"

"Not yet, no." X shook his head. "We received word from the GDC that they're sending someone from New Amsterdam, but they won't get here until tomorrow."

"Hm." Volya didn't seem to take offense to the delay. "Very well. So, Goat, I think it would be best if you met the others on this team. I have had them all waiting down in the Commons Room of this wing for a while now."

"Absolutely. Maybe this won't be such a bad assignment after all." Nils smiled again.

Volya's face scrunched up for a moment, and the Muscovite stopped smiling. "We shall see."

With his black longcoat flaring out behind him, Volya walked crisply out of his office.

Chuckling, Goat followed, and X came after. The silver giant deduced that Volya really hadn't changed that much. He still liked to reserve judgment and avoid predictions.

* * *

><p>The Commons Room apparently wasn't very far from Volya's office, which made the somewhat awkward trip to it short. X's body language spoke of a restrained hostility that Goat picked up on quickly. Volya, for his part, did not seem to care much about the famed hero. The Russian commander wondered how long this Hunters-wide animosity would continue. His guess was an indeterminate one; <em>A<em>_ while._

"I'm still not sure about your Chinese team member." X said, dropping his voice to just above a whisper.

"Neither am I." Volya sighed. "It is one thing to be shipped to your assignment in a box. It is another to cause a security alert within two minutes of it opening."

"Will I like him?" Goat asked, loudly enough that it startled the other two. "Because it sounds as if I will like him."

They stared at him for a moment, and Goat finally felt the need to seek an answer.

"What? Was it a big incident? A little one?"

X jerked his head towards the Commons Room door, trying to draw Goat's attention to the subject at hand. Nils followed the Azure Hunter's gaze and saw that the reploid in question was standing outside of the room. The Chinese reploid stared resolutely forward at the wall, as though by doing so he might eventually burn a hole through it and view the outside.

"Why are you outside of the Commons?" Volya asked, breaking stride from the others to march up to the new inductee. He seemed more upset than concerned. "Are you trying to cause trouble again?" The reploid, a rather blockish fellow, turned his head at the neck to look at his superior. Nils tried to get closer for a better look.

"Localized interference detected inside Commons Room. Made wireless connection with data nets difficult, calling "Home" nearly impossible. Moved outside. Better signal, no need to rewrite access protocols. Rest assured, I am no longer attempting to access local personnel databases, sir."

Volya shot a look at X, whose own expression was kept carefully neutral.

"So long as it's only that." X finally said.

Nils found himself wondering why the Hunters would have set up localized variable spectrum jammers just to stop one reploid, but wisely elected to keep quiet and watch.

"Well, since he is here." Volya cleared his throat. "Lu, this is Goat. Goat, meet Lu."

"And he's Chinese." Goat eyed Volya wonderingly. "Will that cause problems?"

"Only if he makes it one."

Lu was an interesting looking reploid, along with being interesting to listen to. He was shorter than Volya, and much shorter than Nils, with disproportionate limbs. His helmet seemed permanently attached, rather than simply locked on, as most modern reploids' were. Both his arms and his legs were oversized beyond usual specs, and his forearms in particular drew the eye. Both were equipped with an anachronistic melee weapons system; Pile-bunkers. Hydraulically driven pistons, pointed at the front end for puncturing through armor. In a world where plasma based weapons of varying strengths were the norm for combat oriented reploids, Lu's designers had thought to go for style rather than substance. Topping it all off was a questionable paint scheme. He'd been stripped down almost to the bare metal, with only bright orange and yellow markings that indicated clearly his internal access ports. Bright red warning labels in Chinese calligraphy marred his squarish forearms.

Stenciled across his chest, in both Chinese and English lettering was his designation: TEST-0001.

Lu turned to face Nils, who was surprised by the sudden attention and took two steps back. What had thrown him was how _unnatural_ Lu appeared to be, eyes jerking back and forth rapidly as he took in Nils' massive form. Analyzing him.

"Nils. Sergeant Major. GDC Eurobloc. Demolitions expert, trained in all styles of heavy weaponry. An excellent addition to Zephyr Team. Before locked out of localized Electrosphere, was able to acquire personal data." He thrust out his right hand expectantly, and his mechanical tone took on a disturbing personal lilt. "Pleased to meet you! I am Lu." _Even__ his __smile __is __off_, Goat thought.

Despite that, Nils didn't hesitate. He took the reploid's (If Lu _was_ even a reploid) hand and shook it vigorously, noting that only his arm seemed to move while the rest of his body was as still as though he were bolted to the floor. For good measure, Goat attempted to slap Lu on the shoulder. Attempted, for Lu's other hand shot up and caught Goat by the wrist a foot before his hamfist could make impact.

"Well, that makes two friendly souls I know here." Goat announced. "Good to meet you too. I, uh, suppose you already know who I am."

"No. No no." Lu gave his head the barest shake back and forth. "I only read the first page of your file. Different from actually knowing someone."

Goat and Volya shared a look of concern. X only scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"That's kinda profound, actually."

* * *

><p>The odd procession of four reploids made their way back inside the Commons Room, and X nodded to Volya. "I'd best see to my other duties."<p>

"I understand." Volya nodded, giving X only half his attention. "And do we have anything planned for today?"

"You are currently assigned no missions. Dr. Cain figured you'd want the first day to get settled in." X stepped outside of the Commons and motioned a little further down the hall. "Your barracks are just around the bend, when you're ready to turn in. Tomorrow, we'll be putting you into a training rotation."

Volya nodded. "Very well. Good day, Commander."

"Commander." X said haltingly. He walked out of sight, and the door closed behind him.

Volya, Goat, and Lu turned to look back inside. Having met Lu, Goat found himself looking at the last two warriors of Zephyr Team. The first was a somewhat dodgy humanoid reploid in plain looking armor. At first glance, he seemed like any other of the vast multitudes who'd been produced in his size and configuration. By the band on his right forearm, he was equipped with a Buster. Most likely the Mark 17, the most basic model for military types. He might have been basic security, which would limit him to a stun buster, but that was unlikely. Very little stood out as noticeable; he wore a black helmet with a visor usually worn by pilots. His armor was a dark blue above the waist, and a softer blue below it.

The other stranger in the room was much more imposing to look at. Goat couldn't help inhaling in wonder as he found himself looking at an animal reploid. They weren't rare, as most of the non-humanoid reploids built served in special capacities, but it was also true that more animal reploids went Maverick…or at the least, caught the public's attention more when they did. This one resembled a brown fox, and stood at just a hair over five and a half feet tall. His red and white armor seemed well maintained, and before the vulpinoid turned around, Nils noticed that the armor covering the small of his back had a unique set of vents in them. What exactly they vented was something he couldn't venture. Attached to a charging pack between his shoulder blades were a pair of wicked looking shortaxes, the style of which Goat couldn't quite place.

"All right, everyone. It's time for some more introductions." Volya announced. Hesitantly, the two reploids inside the Commons Room walked to the center to meet the others. Volya stood between the four warriors under his command and held up his right arm The other, he kept out of its sleeve and hidden within his black overcoat. "Everybody, this is Nils of the Eurobloc. He also answers to Goat."

"I prefer it, really." Goat added with a smile.

The human reploid with the pilot's helmet laughed under his breath a little. "Of course he does. And there's probably a reason for that strange little name, but we'll save that for another time, yes we will." If Volya was disturbed by the fellow's strange pattern of speech, he kept it to himself and pressed on.

"Goat, this is Morgan, formerly of the New Denver Tactical MSWAT division. He's a pilot, from what I've read on him, and he also has a nickname."

"Oh?" Goat folded his arms and looked to the blue and black-colored Morgan. "What should I call you?"

"Huey." The pilot said, and blinked. "I'm a pilot?"

"Uh…" Goat began to say, cutting himself off when Volya raised his hand. "Sure."

"Hm." Volya turned to the other. "And this is Hawkins, or Tomahawk Foxfire."

The vulpine reploid glanced over Goat, not in the same clinical fashion as Lu had. He seemed to be searching for something else, and failing to find it, gave one short nod of his head. "A pleasure."

"Foxfire has some experience as a Maverick Hunter already." Volya went on, nodding to Hawkins to elaborate.

"Regional Maverick Hunters, out of Wyoming." The fox explained.

"And so you have all met each other." Volya spoke up again, allowing the various reploids in the room to look at each other and begin to puzzle out, curiously, what made them all worthy of being on Zephyr Team. "Now. In the days to come, I will take my measurement of all of you. I do not know why you have been selected for this assignment, only that you have. So long as you are here, you are my responsibility, and I will do my best to keep you all alive."

Out of his one good eye, Volya affixed each member of his team with an even, warning glance. "In return, I expect you all to listen, to follow my orders, and to do so without complaint. I will not waste your time expecting you to agree with my decisions."

"Good." Hawkins muttered, earning stares from Lu and Goat. Huey didn't seem to even register the remark. Unperturbed, for he had certainly heard it, Volya kept going.

"I am Russian in manufacture. You hail from China, Switzerland, and the United States. As of now, those distinctions mean nothing. So long as we are here as members of this…Zephyr Team…we are simply GDC." Volya's voice came out smooth, his accent giving the English syllables an almost romantic quality. "Perhaps some of you feel that I am unqualified for the position of Commander." This time, he looked sharply at Tomahawk Foxfire, and the vulpinoid's whiskers twitched slightly in what might have been a flinch. "While I am unable to share the bulk of my accomplishments with you, what you may know is that I have been fighting and training Spetsnaz soldiers for longer than most of you have been alive." The way he said unable came out _oonayble_, another quirk from his primary language carrier. He blinked, and again his eyepatch and the scar and wound caught their attentions. "I have fought, I have survived, I have endured. Listen, and I will teach you. Follow my orders, and you may stay alive."

"You forgot not complaining." Lu ventured, with his detachment infuriatingly on high.

Inside his longcoat, there was a hint of movement, and then Volya's left arm snapped forth like a snake. A metal cylinder gripped in his hand hissed, and a short blade of plasma ignited, forming to its tapered point just shy of Lu's face. Instinctively, the other three recoiled backwards from the sudden aggressive move, but Lu merely blinked before looking at Volya through the haze of green particles.

"Beam saber. Shortblade class; one meter length, improved charge time. Weapon catalogued."

"Meaning you will expect it next time." Volya spoke lowly, not as a question.

"Affirmative."

Volya's thumb moved imperceptibly, and the beam shortblade extinguished, the plasma retreating to its storage bottle in the hilt. "As for not complaining, my advice is simple. Don't."

He pulled the flap of his longcoat back and stowed the shortblade into a small charging scabbard at his hip. Then the coat was closed back up, and he was once more himself.

"Any questions?"

"One, Commander." Huey said, having found his voice again. "Why's the GDC putting us here with the Maverick Hunters?"

The door to the hallway opened up as Volya was just about to speak, and an elderly human in a blue kimono with red trim hobbled in by use of a walking stick. All the hair from his head seemed to have melted down and frozen on his chin in a drooping fountain, but wrinkled skin and shock white hair didn't change the glint of light in his eyes.

Before them stood Doctor James T. Cain, the creator of the reploid race.

"I may be able to answer that, son." Cain said. "But first, you're wanted downstairs."

* * *

><p><em>Briefing Room Gamma<em>

_MHHQ Main Building_

Dr. Cain was a wiry old bastard, or so his detractors gruffly admitted. In truth, the former archaeologist turned robotic engineer turned private military organizer didn't think of himself as anything but a grandfather always presiding over a fluctuating family reunion. After all, every reploid was descended from Mega Man X, starting with the first, a yellow waif of a thing called Cancer, up to the impersonally manufactured models being produced by the hour. He didn't relish sending the few humans and the many reploids under his command out to kill his errant progeny, but the world never operated by his wishes, and so the intolerance of it went bitterly noted and then forgotten, a footnote of a glossed over reality. For the sake of everyone who worked for the Maverick Hunters, he always put up a brave face. For X especially. He tried to protect X from the world as much as possible, but the years brought their own cynical wisdom in spite of his efforts, and the days when X was a bright-eyed rookie working under Sigma alongside Zero were long gone. How far from Light's vision had Cain let the world drive itself?

He pondered that question anew as he stepped into the conference room with the reploids of Zephyr Team in tow. Zero was already sitting down alongside two other visiting dignitaries, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table and tuning out the droning conversation. A camera crew stationed in the corner of the room was keeping track of the proceedings, and spent a long time keeping their holoscanner on Zero's aloof posture. Cain allowed himself a twitch of a smile before he smoothed out his face to a blank pose. Zero had never needed protecting from the world. It didn't matter if it was politics, combat, or just the world spinning. He faced it all with unblinking ferocity, and though that cast him in the public eye as a slightly feral and incredibly dangerous Maverick Hunter, it certainly suited the reploid's needs.

He had command of his own Special Forces Unit, but all the paperwork required for it fell on the shoulders of his team. Last Cain had heard, they were on a rotating shift to keep the reports up to date. Zero kept to combat and deadly efficiency. Everything else was beneath him. Especially entertaining guests.

The two dignitaries rose as Cain came closer. The first was a sadly semiannual presence within the MHHQ's corridors; GDC Liaison Officer Lionel Gervais, of Gascony, France. In his late thirties, Gervais had been assigned to his posting shortly before the World Trial, and had somehow stuck it out longer than any of his predecessors; years longer. The Frenchman had a thinning pate of brown hair he kept combed over, and a mustache that he could hang bells from, if he'd wanted to. He wore his usual conservatively gray suit and striped tie.

The second, Cain had to pause and think on before recognition finished sneaking through the crevices of his tired old brain. It was an older gentleman with Mediterranean features, and given Gervais, had to be involved with the GDC as well. Finally, it clicked. A Representative, from…Greece, wasn't it? Yes. The man's name escaped him, but he was Greek, and he was GDC.

"James, good to see you again." Gervais shook Cain's hand vigorously.

"Mm hm." Cain nodded. He looked to the uncomfortable babysitting Hunter. "Zero, thanks for entertaining our guests."

"Don't mention it." Zero replied, getting up quickly. The unspoken gleam in his green eyes added _EVER_ to the end of the sentence. He looked behind Cain as the new reploids filtered in, blinking when he tried to categorize the sight of a goliath, a half-blind cripple, a vulpinoid, a screwoff, and a…_whatever_ Lu was. "These the new guys we got today?"

"Zephyr Team." Volya clarified, giving a respectful nod to Zero. Due deference was always given to the specter of death, after all. "Commander Volya, at your service."

"Commander." Zero's lips pursed, but he said nothing else after thinking better of it. "Well, I'll leave you all to it, then. Doc, call me if you need something."

"I'll try not to." Cain joked, patting Zero on the back as the Crimson Hunter escaped the room.

Alone with the cameras, Zephyr Team, and the two guests, Cain glanced to the representative. "I feel like I should know you, sir."

"Oh, forgive me." Gervais apologized. "Dr. Cain, allow me to introduce Representative Theron Olyndicus of Greece, chairman of the Special Military Oversight Committee."

"We have not met." Olyndicus smiled. He was in his fifties or sixties, but outside of the wrinkles time had put on his face and the gray of his hair, Olyndicus looked to be in remarkable shape. "I spend a lot of my time these days working on projects involving Repliforce, but the Maverick Hunters also fall under my Committee's purview, to a lesser extent."

"So you're with the SMOC, then?" Cain put on his best false smile. "We haven't always seen eye to eye."

"Something that my predecessors were left to answer for during the most recent triannual elections." Olyndicus chuckled. "Of course, I have my own problems now. But enough about that. The reports by Officer Gervais indicate you've had a rough go putting this place back together after the Doppler Rebellion."

"We prefer the term Third Maverick Uprising." Cain noted. "And sure, we lost some people, got a lot of holes punched into the walls, but we're taking care of it. When you came in, how did the place look?"

"Pristine."

"There you go, then." Cain cleared his throat. "So, what brings you to our little corner of the world, Mr. Olyndicus?"

"Please, call me Theron." The representative insisted, making sure to raise his voice so the recording equipment could pick his jovial mood up easily. "I came to take a look at your newest Maverick Hunters in person. When I heard that the GDC was sending personnel to be members of your organization, I couldn't help but smile."

"Oh? Why, exactly?" Cain asked, carefully neutral.

"Although the Maverick Hunters are technically under the GDC's dominion, our two organizations have never quite gotten along with one another. But now, this new batch of Maverick Hunters represents a bridge between us, a pathway to understanding and cooperation. The Doppler Rebellion's aftershocks still haunt the world, and the Hunters are still running at diminished capacity. Now, more than ever, our unity will help to guide the world down the right path." He held out a hand expectantly, and Cain shook it, if only to keep from looking the fool on the holocameras.

Olyndicus gave Cain two beats before turning to the five reploids in the room. "And now, look at you! Brave warriors of the Global Defense Council, taken from all corners of the world. Come here, let me look at you!"

_"__He __lays __it __on __awful __thick.__" _Goat whispered to Volya, covering his mouth.

"Hm." Volya acknowledged the remark with a grunt, but stepped up to the GDC Representative all the same. Olyndicus clapped his hands on Volya's shoulders and beamed at the cameras.

"Smile, son, smile!"

"I do not smile often." Volya admitted, and kept a straight face. Somehow, he kept his poise even when Representative Olyndicus hugged him to his side and smiled at the cameras.

"These boys represent the future of our two great organizations." Olyndicus explained. "I am sure that they are the best our member nations had to offer. They will be a truly international coalition, fighting for peace in our troubled world. I expect to hear great things about them in the weeks to come. Let's get all of them in here, I think a group shot would be terrific."

Begrudgingly, Volya gestured to the others, and the team uncomfortably shuffled in. They formed an odd semicircle, with Goat standing behind them and Olyndicus holding Volya's hand in congratulations. The photographers lined up for the shot, struggling to do so.

"Could you pull it in a little closer, please?" One recorder asked. "I'm having trouble getting you all in the picture."

"Wait!" Olyndicus exclaimed. "Before you do, let's get Doctor Cain and Officer Gervais in here as well. They, too, are a part of this after all."

With the other two men crowding in, the reploids of Zephyr Team started to look even more miserable than they'd been before. It was bad enough that one photographer looked up, glanced to the other, and remarked that, _"__It__ looks __like __a __prison__ photo.__"_

They snapped the shots regardless, and Olyndicus pulled away from Volya. "There, that should keep the press happy for a while. They love a feel-good story."

"Hm." Volya offered in reply.

"Pardon? Did you say something, lad?"

"No, not really." Volya shrugged.

Olyndicus unsurely nodded, and then gestured to his GDC counterpart. "Well, Mr. Gervais, why don't we head down to the cafeteria and try some of the local fare?"

"Oh, excellent idea, sir." Gervais brightened up. "They do have some excellent cooks here at the base." He followed Olyndicus out of the room, and the cameramen followed. "Why, the last time I was here…"

With relief, the door shut behind them, leaving Dr. Cain and Zephyr Team alone in the room.

Volya glanced over to Lu. "Lu, scan for transmitters."

The Chinese reploid started. "Commander, you previously advised me not to…"

"You're not datamining the MHHQ servers, you're checking for bugs."

"Oh." Lu reached up to the side of his helmet and slowly swept the room with his eyes. A few seconds later, he nodded. "The room is secure."

"Sure as Hell should be, our techs sweep this and every other section of the base daily." Cain complained. "Why would you even worry about that?"

"Politicians play by their own strange rules. The Fourth Estate keeps to even stranger guidelines." Volya crisply replied. "I have very few rules."

"Three. He has three." Morgan confided.

"That you know of." Goat corrected the pilot.

Cain looked them over. "So this wasn't your idea?"

"No." Volya gave his head a shake. "I was not informed of this distraction."

"Well, that explains why you didn't say a whole lot to Olyndicus."

"Politicians rarely require a response." Volya brought his hands out and cracked his knuckles loudly; a human gesture that his physiology took to a painful extreme. "They never listen to the ones they get anyway."

"True." Cain leaned both hands on his walking stick and sized them up again. "Now. To answer your original question, Morgan, why did the GDC send you here to be Maverick Hunters?" The old man exhaled in disgust. "I've got my guesses, but mostly I think they just wanted a presence here. Of course, that doesn't mean you'll be going on missions anytime soon. What I've seen so far hasn't been very promising."

"I will reserve my own judgments for the time being." Volya said, not shrinking away from Cain's staredown. "But you are correct in one regard, Doctor. Zephyr Team has not yet been measured. With your permission, I would like to remedy that."

"Oh? Going to do some training?"

"Do you have an obstacle course on the grounds we might use? Access to a weapons range?"

"Something like that." Cain nodded, a sudden devilish twinkle of an idea taking hold. "Yes, I think we have a facility here that will do quite nicely. Have you ever been in holographic simulations?"

Volya made a face. "I would prefer our training regimen to be real."

Cain turned for the door, chuckling. "Well, I'll tell X to meet us down there. You see, Commander, our simulators are probably the best in the world. Once we put you in the box and turn it on…it can be as real as you want it to be."

* * *

><p><em>MHHQ<em>

_Sub-Basement Secondary Annex_

From the surface, nobody would have ever expected that the MHHQ housed such a spacious facility belowground. The design made a lot of sense, though; you wouldn't want people popping off live rounds next to sensitive facilities or the living quarters.

"We have ten holo-simulator rooms. Two of those are large enough to house full units of twenty-one individuals. The others have a capacity for five each." Cain explained. Zephyr Team followed the old man down a hallways bracketed by stairwells on either side in the middle of the corridor. "Each room can run an independent simulation, or when the need calls for it, link up for joint operations."

At the end of the hallway, an unmarked metal door halted their progress. Cain knocked on it twice, and then it unlocked and split open to reveal a very futuristic control center. In the control chair sat Mega Man X, who waved at them all.

"Welcome to the bridge." X announced. "Come on in, you'll want a look in here before we get started."

"Well, now I know where all our money went." Tomahawk Foxfire looked around with jealousy. The remark earned him an odd look from Cain until Lu said, "Hunter Hawkins served in the Regional Wyoming patrol."

"Ah." Cain nodded. "Now I get you."

"Most of this was actually home-built." X pointed out with a frown. "We're not exactly made of money, either."

"Perhaps we can stay focused, gentlemen?" Volya growled. He ran his hand over the Bridge consoles without touching anything, and took note of the angled transparisteel windows that jutted above and away from the room on all sides. "You watch the simulations from here?"

"And control them." X clarified. "We always have someone in the booth when there are sessions active; it's a precautionary measure, just in case things get out of hand."

"Does that happen often?" Goat cut in uneasily.

"If the Hunters that are training turn off the safety features, yes." Cain gruffly admitted. "I wasn't joking about it being real as you want it to, son. We've carted Hunters out of here that got locked into auto-stasis after taking a beating."

"We've never had a simulation that screwed up the mainframe and couldn't be shut down, though." X joked. "This isn't Star Trek."

"Pain can be helpful during training." Volya suggested, seeming to respect the facility's power, if not its purpose. "It can be a most effective teaching aid."

"Boy, you were all sunshine and rainbows back in Russia, weren't you, Comrade?" Huey mused. Volya looked over, and the pilot raised a hand. "Hey, that wasn't a complaint, that was a veiled insult."

Volya's left eyebrow arched over his eyepatch. "Hm."

"You like to muse aloud a lot, don't you?" X inferred.

"It is better than the alternative." Volya reasoned.

Goat laughed nervously. "Yeah…gutting people who irritate him."

"Heh! Ha ha!" Huey cackled. "Nice one!" Volya and Goat both gave the former MSWAT officer a blank stare, and Huey's grin died. "Oh."

"Hm." Volya grunted. He turned to X. "Perhaps we should begin. I would like to see what my men are capable of."

"All right. Did you have a training program in mind? An obstacle course, maybe?" X asked, reaching for the main keypad.

"I wish to see them fight, not run through old tires." Volya responded firmly. "Can you simulate a sizable enemy force for individual assessment?"

"Easily." X said. He glanced over at Dr. Cain, then nodded. "As a matter of fact, we have a pretty basic simulation we use to gauge the first-timers. I could set it up for you if you like."

"That will be fine." Volya folded his arms and angled his chin at the windows. "May I watch from here?"

"You sure can." Cain tapped his stick on the floor. "Go ahead and walk these new guys down to Room 4, X. I'll start setting up the parameters."

"Right, then." X got up and gestured to the rest of Volya's team. "If you'll all follow me?"

Zephyr Team filtered out of the Bridge, leaving Volya and Cain alone. The old man sat down and started to punch in commands for the simulator, and Volya cleared his throat. "So, who designed this simulation?"

"The run that X referred to wasn't an original composition, Commander." Cain explained, reaching for a dial. "We took it from mission recordings. A lot of our simulator programs use past missions as their source."

"Very strategic." Volya said agreeably. "We must learn from the past. So, what mission did this one come from?"

"June 4th, 2118." Cain answered coldly. A specter rose up behind his eyes, slowing his movements. "Nightfall of Reploid Independence Day. Pursuing the hijacked airship _Death __Rogumer_, Commander X fought his way through legions of Mavericks and almost didn't make it out alive. It culminated with a faceoff against Vile in the shambles of New Tokyo's Vinkus Memorial Park." He looked up at Volya, deadly serious. "We call it The Meat Grinder."

* * *

><p>"I don't think I've ever done holo-training before." Tomahawk Foxfire said.<p>

"It was pretty rudimentary when we first started. Thanks to our tech crews, we have very complex algorithms nowadays. Aside from running the program as is, we can modify obstacle layout, number of targets, and AI ferocity. That's not counting how much more or less we can make damage hurt." The Blue Bomber of 21XX guided them down the left stairway and into a lower, curving corridor. Thankfully, it accommodated Goat's size.

"You mentioned earlier that our previous military ranks didn't mean anything, Commander." Goat ventured. "What did you mean by that?"

"Easy. I imagine Mr. Foxfire here could explain it, seeing as he's a Hunter himself." X paused outside the doorway of the fourth simulator and brought the procession to a halt. "Care to try?"

The brown vulpinoid shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the added attention on him. "The Maverick Hunters don't use named ranks, outside of Commander, and at one time, Supreme Commander. They go by a letter ranking system instead."

"Greek letters?" Lu asked, with his usual naiveté.

"No, just regular ones." Foxfire shook his head. "Your lowest Hunters are ranked D. They're the ones who are more liable to hurt themselves than the Mavericks they're supposed to fight. Rank C Hunters get the job done, but get banged up a lot. Rank B Hunters are a little bit better, Rank A Hunters are terrific, and Rank SA Hunters are the upper echelon. Rank SA Hunters can sometimes even perform better than expected, going as high as GA, PA, or UH. I think UH is a little bit like a perpetual motion machine; everybody shoots for it, but nobody gets it. To be UH, you have to be perfect."

"Maybe." X reasoned. "Of course, Zero scored a UH once in a training session, and despite what he tells the girls around here, he isn't perfect."

"Unbelievable." Foxfire looked skyward and rolled his eyes. "Of course _he_ would."

"Oh, before we get started, does anybody here require some munitions?" X tapped the side of his arm. "I carry my own weapons system, but I know that others aren't so lucky."

"I could use a few things." Goat drawled.

Lu stepped forward beside the goliath. "I, too, would like to request some magpistols."

"Okay, so that's two magpistols with some extra magazines, and…Yeah. You." X looked at Goat and shook his head. He reached to a communications panel on the wall opposite of Room 4's doorway and tapped it. "Commander X here. I've got some people doing a simulator run. Put me through to the weapons depot."

_"__One__moment,__Commander.__"_ Came the delayed response from the MHHQ operator. There was a momentary _click_, and then the line picked up.

_**"**__**Weapons **__**depot.**__**Whaddya**__** need,**__**X?**__**"**_

"Standby for a weapons request. Teleport the supplies to Locker Holo-Alpha."

_**"**__**Roger**__** that.**__**"**_

X stepped back and motioned to Goat and Lu. "Go ahead and tell the man what you need. Trust me, we'll have it."

"You carry ATA-7 Galavine Bazookas?" Goat blinked.

X stumbled forward a bit. "Er…well, sure. Maybe. You can ask him." He motioned to a recessed panel five meters away from them on the outer wall. "They'll teleport your weapons into this locker; a chime will sound when they're done transferring."

X left the two recruits alone and walked over to rejoin Morgan and Foxfire at the door. "Okay, then. That leaves you two, and I assume you're ready to go. So who wants to go first? Huey? Or you, Hawkins?"

The pilot and the patroller looked at one another, and Tomahawk Foxfire finally shrugged his shoulders. "Fine, I'll go." The fox reploid sighed. "Just to get it out of the way." He stepped towards the door, and it opened to let him in.

"Oh, Hawkins. I forgot to ask." X suddenly said, stopping him. "When you were a Regional Hunter, what were you ranked as?"

Tomahawk "Hawkins" Foxfire paused, straightened up a bit, and considered the question.

"You know," he finally said, "I never thought to ask."

He stepped inside the room, and the door shut behind him.

* * *

><p>For a while, Tomahawk Foxfire just kind of stood there.<p>

It wasn't so much that he was impressed by the historic event he was about to reenact—_where __were _you _when __Sigma __awakened __that __highway_, he'd been asked by one too many wide-eyed nostalgics; _Well,__ pal, __I __was __still __just __a __glimmer __in __some __furry__'__s __eye_—but rather it was the fact that in order to complete this glorified obstacle course, he'd need to move his limbs, and he wasn't entirely certain that those limbs still belonged to him.

Since skulking into Maverick Hunter Headquarters, Foxfire had felt as though his mind was floating above his body like a kite, attached only by the thinnest of strings. He himself hadn't shaken hands with his new colleagues, he himself hadn't taken pictures with the well-spritzed GDC figures (the Frenchman had smelt vaguely like baby powder)—no, he'd merely _watched __himself_ do these things, wondering why he couldn't _feel_ the hands he clasped, or why he heard bitterness in his voice when talking to Volya even though he had no true opinion one way or another about the man. It was as if Foxfire was no longer the one controlling which words left his own mouth. He'd even started thinking of himself as "Foxfire" rather than the more humanized "Hawkins" moniker that his old friends had bestowed upon him like a war medal. He remembered a time when any one of these things would have disturbed him enough to take action.

But today, Foxfire's first steps were toward a pit in the broken highway, where he planned to drop into a crater and "die" just to test how Volya the One-Eyed Snowman would react. Halfway there, he picked up on an acrid scent, and the kite-string suddenly went taut.

_Jesus __Christ_, he realized, his fur actually standing on end. _I__ can __smell __this __city __dying._

He'd been in holo-sims before—though not for combat—but they were all somewhat artificial, failing to properly engage all of the senses. Foxfire was, first and foremost, a creature of sensation. This sim was indeed different, however. Foxfire picked up on the warmth of rampant fires, the choking odor of melting vehicles, even the soft tinny buzzing of the streetlamps that were still active. Ambient heat painted his face like a ritual.

Limb by limb, he felt his body coming back to life, the weight in his bones displaced by something ravenous. His spine curled of its own volition, so that Foxfire crouched slightly in a stalking position. He heard the approaching propellers of two ground-pounding aerial mechaniloids, along with the spokes of a thorned wheel ticking closer and closer to his position.

His tomahawks were in his hands, then, and he was moving—dancing, really—one foot forward with claws digging into the pavement and his whole body pivoting to one side while his blade bit into the spiked wheel's harmless flank. Not stopping, Foxfire twisted the tomahawk just enough to embed it in the wheel, and he pivoted again, swinging 360-degrees and extending his arm at just the right moment. The wheel broke off of the tomahawk and like a boomerang it scythed through the air toward the flying mechaniloids, biting one in half with its spikes and then crashing bodily into the second so that both targets tumbled off the side of the highway.

Foxfire didn't even stop moving to watch them fall.

Ahead, he could see several squat, hulking blue forms, each of them sparking with electricity. And ahead of them would be—well, Foxfire was a student of history, and he knew what awaited him. Without much internal debate, the vulpinoid tossed himself over the edge of the highway.

However, to the relief of the migraine that Commander Volya had probably spent the day fending off with ten-foot pikes, Foxfire did not pull a Wile E. Coyote. Instead, his tomahawks lashed out again, anchoring the Hunter in the highway's damaged side. He ripped out one blade and caught it against some loose steel, then freed the other and swung himself toward the steel cables lining the highway's underbelly. He latched on with the potent claws on his feet, dangling like a bat just long enough to sheathe his tomahawks. Then he doubled over and crawled, upside down, along the many cables and beams that were still intact, completely bypassing all of the enemies above.

Then he grabbed a loose cable, and Foxfire felt his upper half tumbling gracelessly toward oblivion.

His feet held, despite the lurch of his upper weight against his knees. Ankles sore and jolted, Foxfire stared wide-eyed at the abyss, marveling again at the realism of this sim, the believable death that would follow the unclenching of his toes. For a moment he allowed himself to dangle there, in the space between fake life and fake death, just to see how it felt. His immediate conclusion was that it felt disturbingly like freedom.

And that's when he heard it—the thrumming rotors of the Mitsubatchi "Bee Blader."

Foxfire sighed, his mind returning to the mission. The thought of taking on a Bee Blader seemed somehow counterproductive. He'd been making such good time. _Good__ time,_ he thought—_Good __time __toward __what, __exactly? __What__'__s __the __objective, __here?_

_ Death __Rogumer,_ he remembered, and things became clearer.

The insectoid helicopter was above him, on the road—but the road ahead was too badly damaged to continue along the underbelly. Foxfire looked up and saw that the cable that had betrayed him was not the only one in a state of disrepair. The road itself looked ready to crumble. A smile grew on Foxfire's face as the vulpinoid began hatching a plan. He again pulled himself up to all fours, the vents along his armor beginning to release a curious golden shimmer into the air around him.

Like most combat feraloids, Tomahawk Foxfire came equipped with a unique ability. In his case it was the "Aether Flare," a glistening cloud of energy not unlike the garlands Morph Moth once left in his wake. In fact, this "cloud" was composed of nano-operated cells containing pyrotechnics and compressed kinetic energy. Foxfire crawled along a ten-foot stretch of highway, lingering on the weakest pylons, leaving that will-o-wisp behind him until the bottom of the road seemed to be on fire. Then the fox made his way down toward the hole in the road, well clear of the cloud he'd created, listening carefully to the Bee Blader's machine guns as they tore apart empty cars. Foxfire held his breath, sent the command, and the actual Aether Flare occurred.

All the micro-explosives contained in Foxfire's energy curtain ignited at once, a solar wink that echoed like thunder. No one would ever have called the resulting explosion insanely powerful, but it was more than enough to destroy what support the highway had left, and that twenty-foot stretch of road sank like a burning stone. Foxfire watched it go, clinging to a pylon beneath what was now a small and swaying piece of suspended highway.

Within seconds, the Bee Blader descended to investigate. His heart leaping, Foxfire watched the distracted behemoth as it began investigating the ruined road, and without wasting any more time he scaled the side of the highway. He'd left himself just enough road for the running start he'd need to cross the upcoming chasm, and with his limbs fluid one more, Foxfire took his great leap. The Mitsubatchi never knew he was there.

But when he landed on the other side, the rest of the history lesson kicked in: wasn't there supposed to be more than one Bee Bla—

_Why__ yes __there __was!_

* * *

><p>Up above, watching from the safety of the holographic bridge, Dr. Cain, Commander X, and Commander Volya kept their opinions to themselves for the most part. Cain would nod every so often as Hawkins scurried along without engaging, X glanced back to Volya approvingly, and the Muscovite merely stared. He did so out of great interest; Tomahawk Foxfire, or "Hawkins" as his nickname had been, was the only former Hunter among them. Regional Hunter or no, he had lived and worked by the same code that powered this institution. Hawkins' maneuvers avoided direct contact with overwhelming enemy forces-namely, the Bee Blader-while continuing towards his main goal. That indicated he knew his strengths and weaknesses.<p>

The physical ones, at least.

Remembering what he'd read of Hawkins in the vulpinoid's records, Volya harrumphed and finally spoke. "He will need some work."

"Are you serious?" X blinked at the suggestion. "He's doing great so far. Most people would just try to charge through it. He's working the course."

Volya, who had meant something else entirely, kept his own counsel after that and watched.

* * *

><p>Foxfire danced around the bullets and ran like hell. He navigated the fractured road, dodging the torpedoes the Bee Blader sent his way by timing their whistles with his steps, dodging the strange purple mechaniloids that now swarmed above him like gnats, dodging even the soldiers in their weaponized convertibles who found that their cars couldn't quite keep up with a fox in full sprint. And all the while he kept trailing his molten energy behind him.<p>

Foxfire could remotely activate the Aether Flare cells for up to ten minutes after they left his body, depending on his power reserves, though the cells themselves lost power the longer they were deployed. Still at full power, he thought he'd have pretty good range, and so he waited. He would only have one shot at this, and there ahead was the final objective, _Death__ Rogumer_ itself.

Only when he was in the airship's literal shadow did Foxfire spin in mid-stride, grin toothily at the small army that was still shooting at him, and set the air on fire.

The purple flyers never had a chance—the Aether Flare burst them like fireworks. The drivers vanished in a confusion of light, crashing into one another and into the median and guardrails. It was the Bee Blader, though, that gave Foxfire the most pleasure. Like an experienced maestro, Foxfire burst one cloud at a time, patterning the thunder he unleashed around the furious Mitsubatchi so that one blast hit the copter from the right, sending it pitching to the left where another flare sent it back to the right, and back again, juggling the imposing enemy between hell's coals until finally two of its generators blew out in a satisfying crunch. Foxfire watched his flaming wave dissipate and felt his chest swell at the sight of his enemies either broken or in retreat, led by the smoking Mitsubatchi, which limped back toward the main highway where another Hunter would have been able to finish it off with ease.

"_Boom!_" Foxfire erupted, leaping once into the air and pumping his fist. "_BOOM!_ How _about _that, suckas? Tell me that wasn't _fucking __awesome!_"

Behind him—an earthquake.

Just the one tremor.

Then the hiss of the _Death __Rogumer_'s cargo arm retreating into its belly.

Tomahawk Foxfire turned around slowly, more out of resignation than curiosity. Sure as hell, there it was, the Chimera's broad chest looking to Foxfire more like the hull of an aircraft carrier than the frame of a robot ride armor. At the top sat the fiend himself, one bloody eye peering from the shadows of his medieval visor.

"Boom indeed," quoth Vile, his voice feeling not unlike spiders at the nape of one's neck. The cruel smile behind his visor was invisible, though it might as well have glowed neon. "So, then..."

The Chimera jetted toward Foxfire, one fist already in mid-flight, Vile's words echoing like a demonic choir:

"_What __now, __bitch?__"_

Foxfire did not immediately have that answer. He managed to bolt the hell out of the way, pivoting stiffly and bringing his tomahawks up to bear. He thought he'd wait for Vile to dash toward him again and then clip the side of the—

Pain.

Air.

Faceplant.

Foxfire pulled himself up quickly, shocked at how fast Vile's bulky mecha had managed to turn itself around. Now here it came again, and the vulpinoid rolled to the side, and then to his feet, and then dodged again, shaking his head to clear away the remaining stars. Vile's laughter punched through Foxfire's headache like a drumbeat, and that elusive adrenaline flowed into the Hunter's veins once more.

_Holy__ shit,_ he consciously acknowledged for perhaps the first time since his reassignment, _I'm__ a __Hunter __again._

With that thought came any number of unpleasant memories, but also a double-dose of pride and energy. Hawkins leapt away from Vile once more, but this time he began venting his Aether. The shimmering cloud began filling up the patch of highway that was their arena as Vile struck and Foxfire retreated.

Finally Vile stopped dashing, leaping backward instead and opening fire with a spray of energy from his shoulder cannon. Hawkins—he was "Hawkins" again, the vulpinoid thought with an inner grin—saw it coming and was clear of ground zero mostly in time, raising his tomahawks to deflect one shot that came too close to home. He looked toward Vile in challenge, but now the Maverick had moved out of range of the Aether. "Come on, Vava," the fox murmured, watching and waiting. Hoping. "Vava, Vava, Vava," he whispered, paying attention to the way his mouth worked to form the words, a sort of meditative metronome.

"Aren't you bored yet, Foxy?" Vile chirped, his cannon glowing with the threat of plasma, but not its actuality. "I'm sick of dancing with you." Vile leaned forward in his cockpit, meeting Hawkins's eyes. "I want to _wear__ you_, Foxy. I want to wrap your shoulders around my shoulders, and I want to smell your wet blood on your own bristles, and then PETA will sue my ass, and then I'll wear _them,_ too!"

"Come and get me," Hawkins growled—but Vile was already on the way. He wasn't coming gently, either; his shoulder cannon crackled with a golden curtain not unlike Hawkins's own, but the Hunter knew it would have a decidedly different effect. "Come get some java, Vava," he murmured, tensing, watching the Ride Armor closing in, waiting for _exactly_ the right millisecond. "Splash some guava on your balaclava—"

_Now._

Hawkins faked right; Vile steered for him, but the fox cartwheeled another direction—not left, but directly _backwards_, so that Vile missed him but was still within striking distance, and Maverick's trademark electrical cage bounced uselessly off the street.

Hawkins now had one last trick up his sleeve. The Aether Flare ability ran not just to his external vents, but also into his tomahawks, and in that case the flare ignited by force of impact. His blades aglow, Hawkins launched himself at the Chimera. One tomahawk sliced at an exposed flank while Vile tried to recover from his miss, creating a burst of energy that tore open some of the machine's flimsier protection. But it didn't bite in too deeply, so that Hawkins could spin all the way around and slam the other blade hard into the Chimera's waist. This time the explosion was bigger, carrying the tomahawk—and Hawkins's arm with it—back past his shoulder with kinetic force, and sending the Chimera sidling toward the edge of the highway. Then Hawkins detonated the greater Aether Flare, and, much as he'd juggled the Bee Blader, he blasted Vile closer and closer to the abyss.

That, at any rate, was the plan. Yet there Vile stood once the smoke cleared, still on the highway. The Ride Armor appeared damaged, but disappointingly intact and surefooted.

"You stupid bastard!" the Maverick roared. "Did you think your little faerie fire was gonna work on _me_?"

There was no time for a new plan. Hawkins simply acted. He dashed forward. Not to the side, not around a flank. Directly forward. And Vile did as well, but not before Hawkins was too close for him to build up enough speed for his punches to cripple. Hawkins brought both tomahawks down in an overhead chop, embedding them in the Mech's chest. He huddled as close to the torso as he could, too close for the fists pumping like pistons past his ears to land a hit, too close for Vile even to fire a shot down at him. But the Chimera pressed forward, and Hawkins's foothold wasn't much by comparison.

It felt like many things. It felt like pushing against a wall that wouldn't budge, of course, but that was the obvious metaphor. Really it felt like the truncheons in Cheyenne, like Vantica's bloodied skull and like Wren's frightened protests as they dragged her to the armored humvee, like all of those disgusted MSWAT faces, like the humans full of hate, all of them shouting that word in his face—_Maverick! __Maverick! __Maverick!_ It felt like prison, like demotion, like disgrace. Like a door that would never open again.

He didn't know when he started doing it. He just knew that all of a sudden he was pummeling Vile blow for blow, his tomahawks exploding against the Chimera's chest while the mecha's fists glanced off of Hawkins's chest, sides, and shoulders, Vile's war machine giving ground inch by inch only due to the higher rapidity of Hawkins's slices and close-quarter Aether Flares. The vulpinoid felt wild—truly, utterly wild. He slammed his blades into the prison's door, knowing it wouldn't give, but enjoying the sound anyway.

Then the Chimera caught against the edge of the highway, and Hawkins felt it. Vile's cannon crackled again with its paralytic, but Hawkins was faster. He jumped high, spinning again, one tomahawk in the Ride Armor's upper torso, the kinetic reaction twisting Hawkins around the other way and the second blade exploding into the mecha in much the same fashion. The two final hits did the trick: the top-heavy mecha pitched backward and Vile lost his footing. With a primal scream of frustration, the Maverick fell down, down, down, a shrinking dot amidst the burning city below.

Hawkins stood there for a while, staring after Vile, unable to quite believe that this had worked. For just a second, then, he had the urge to savor his triumph, but then the constricting pain in his chest finally registered. He stepped away from the edge, realizing how many hits Vile had landed—enough damage that Hawkins's armor was plenty fractured, and his breath came both heavy and bloody. He crouched on one knee, concentrating on that breath, asking for it one inhalation at a time. His chest rattled like one of the snakes in the Big Horns, like broken teeth grinding together in a dark holding cell. _"__We__ should __have __killed __them__ all,__"_ Vantica kept saying to him that first night, weeping blood, delirious with pain. _"__We__ should __have __killed __them__** all**__.__"_ Hawkins didn't even remember the simulated Vile's blows landing. He didn't even remember the last things Vantica or Wren had ever said to him.

**"****Simulation ****complete.****"** The computer guiding the facsimile of the world announced. **"****Rank:****A.****"**

His last thought, as the simulated world began to fade, as Goat's jovial voice began filling his receptors with congratulations, was that the chasm below the highway still looked far too appealing.

* * *

><p>A few moments later, the exit door reappeared and slid open. Tomahawk Foxfire walked outside into the corridor and rejoined Lu, Huey, and Nils.<p>

"Well, how did you do?" Goat asked eagerly. He glanced over the vulpinoid's injuries with a touch of concern. "My god, what happened?"

_"__He__ finished __the __test.__" _Volya's voice cut in, above over the hallway's intercom. _"__I__ would __ask __that __you __refrain __from__ talking __about __it.__ I __do__ not __wish __to __invalidate __the __results. __Decide __amongst__ yourselves __who __is __going __next.__"_

Goat, Lu, and Huey appraised one another, and it was the Chinese reploid, Lu, who finally nodded. "I shall attempt this simulation."

"Be careful." Foxfire warned him. "It'll get the best of you if you aren't."

"Your injuries are noted." Lu said, checking his magweapons one last time. "Am designed to handle worse. No offense intended."

The door closed after him, and Huey chuckled.

"Friendly guy, isn't he?"

* * *

><p>Standing in the middle of one of the many raised roads that made up the New Tokyo Superhighway Interchange, Lu was impressed by the simulator's ability to come as close as it did to reality. Were he less perceptive, he might actually have believed that it was truly June 4th, 2118. He imagined the realism would assist newer, less experienced combatants to acquire some semblance of control for when the real fighting began. He'd never had any reservations about fighting, so the risk the simulator presented was lost on him, viewing it as a chance to test his current configuration under similar circumstances to those the progenitor of his kind faced on that fateful day. The world around him was frozen in time, just as it appeared in X's memories the moment he'd warped directly to the highway to begin the counter attack against Sigma's forces. Broken and burning vehicles, civilians trapped within or fleeing with feat, they too lined the roads.<p>

Like an open wound in the sky, the _Death __Rogumer_ hung in the distance, like it had appeared to X those many years ago, like it had for so many other Hunters of the establishment.

Lu found the scene technically impressive, but remained unmoved by the suffering all around him, focusing instead on the words of the training program. He did not profess to have things he 'liked', but the words 'by any means necessary' gave him an odd sensation, similar to the feeling he experienced back at the lab, when the safety locks released and he was allowed to leave the maintenance bed or stasis capsule.

"Commander Volya. Mag weaponry not standard issue Hunter equipment in 2118. Reconfirm: Allowed for this scenario?"

_"__It__ is __a __test __of __your __current __capability, __not __a __historical __reenactment.__" _Volya's voice reached him via the radio in his helmet, as it would on a real field operation.

"Civilians a factor to be considered? Cannot save them all. Foolish to try. Historical records indicated over sixteen hundred casualties within a three mile radius of this very location. Ninety percent fatal. Would be faster, more efficient to ignore-"

Volya drew in a sharp breath, giving Lu a moment's pause. _"Their __lives, __even __virtually, __come __before __our __own. __Remember__ that."_

"Yes, Commander."

He considered the weapons picked for the simulation. The twin Type 76 mag pistols he'd chosen would be satisfactory at clearing smaller threats, and the 'Golgotha' M-13 15 mm anti-material mag rifle. The scenario, and his new parameters made the use of these weapons a dicey proposition.

A common misconception about most solid objects, such as the concrete and assorted metals that made up the highway span, was that they could be considered 'hard cover' against weapons like his rifle. That simply was not true. Even should the bullet fail to completely penetrate the road or dividing wall, fragments from the shot would be just as lethal to people and the vehicles they hid behind. A missed shot could travel far, and Lu was uncertain civilian deaths would be counted if one round strayed beyond his ability to account for.

The scenario had more or less become standardized training material for the Hunters, but Lu's own experience had been almost entirely based around the methodical killing of human soldiers under various circumstances, with any number of restrictions placed upon him. His placement in the Hunters did not strike him as a particularly logical use of his abilities, and the idea of having greater restrictions to his usual rules of engagement was a foreign concept to him. He considered Volya's words for a several long seconds before finally coming to a conclusion.

_ Human life must be preserved at all cost, therefore Mission Priority: Destroy all hostile targets as they appear within range of scenario grounds. Failure conditions: Hostile target survives, human casualty confirmed through action/inaction. _

"To confirm, simulator safety functions are disabled?"

_"__Any__ damage __that __would __result __in __auto-stasis __or __destruction __will __trigger __an __automatic __mission__ failure. __You __will __otherwise __incur __damage__ as __in__ real__ life.__"_

"Beginning test in thirty seconds." And Lu stared into the virtual distance with the same blank expression he usually maintained. As soon as the simulation began, Lu began to jog purposely forward, his eyes snapping between targets as they closed in.

Lu brought up both of his arms as his jog became a sprint. His footfalls dug small craters in the road with each step, as the first target came into range, a 'Spiky'-type mechaniloid. His upper body seemed to weave back and forth, like that of a boxer trying to throw off his opponent, trying to build momentum for the upcoming assault.

"Engaging." He brought back his right arm as he continued to accelerate at his target, the pilebunker shifting on his right arm, preparing to fire in reverse, while the one on his left remained in its standard configuration. He leapt forward, spinning in mid-air as he closed in on the mechaniloid.

Pilebunkers did not have the same high tech charm in the media. Hardly flashy; the layman was less impressed by it based on appearances alone. A plasma saber or buster, these were weapons that displayed their power with little confusion about the extent of their capabilities. It was easier to visualize raw energy burning holes through the composite armor plating found on Main Battle Tanks. It was more difficult to picture the three inch wide spiked shafts built into Lu's arms being capable weapons in their own right.

The impact of his right elbow all but crushed the spikes and armor that made up much of the center treads of the small mech, turning it from a wheel into a misshapen metal croissant, shattering as the pile fired from underneath his elbow, shrapnel peppering much of his backside and the road around him. If he'd been affected by any of this, he did not let it show. Slowly, he stood from what remained of the mechaniloid, bits and pieces of it decorating his frame.

* * *

><p>"Melee only?" X leaned forward, surprised by Lu's opening move. "He asked for magpistols earlier. I heard it myself. Even looks like he picked up a mag-rifle."<p>

"I'm not really feeling his choice in melee weapons," Dr. Cain added. "It's not that it's old fashioned, it just seems not really meant for this kind of work."

"Lu himself is not meant for hunting Mavericks," Volya corrected. "He was created for different game altogether." Though the Russian tried to disguise it, X and Cain knew what he meant. Volya, in whatever classified capacity, had been Spetsnaz. Lu had likely been built in a mirrored fashion.

Both, when the mission called for it, were capable of attacking soft targets.

They were pulled from the action momentarily as the door opened, and Zero Omega stepped in. The Crimson Hunter glanced around. "What did I miss?"

"That fox reploid's run. He got an A." X explained. "Devilish use of delayed explosives."

"Lu is currently on his own run." Volya said, turning back to the action. "I assume you wish to watch."

* * *

><p>Crushing another Spiky into the roadway, Lu vaulted forward towards the next set of obstacles: a 'Gunbolt' mobile weapon platform, and in the air racing ahead of the platform, two 'Crushers' pulled their spike-laden flails from the road, dragging them a fair distance before they finally were yanked back into their ready position.<p>

The Gunbolt's missile racks spat their first pair of rockets at Lu. He drew a mag-pistol, sighted on the missiles...and hesitated, scanning for humans near his line of fire, near the incoming warheads, and then finally opened fire. Two shots dead center on each warhead, before holstering the weapon. Bits of debris and shrapnel rained on him, a larger jagged piece sticking through his right eye.

One of the Crushers finally slipped into position overhead, unceremoniously dropping its cargo onto Lu's head…

Except it never made contact with anything but his right fist, the honed spike of the pilebunker buried deep inside the crushing mace. His knees buckled under the added weight, but otherwise, Lu remained upright. Neither the Crushers or the Gunbolts had the ability to be surprised by this sudden change of events, they just recognized that a target had not ceased to function. The Crusher tried to pull the mace free, but found itself unable to do so. Its brother circled around, unsure of what angle it should attack its target from.

The pilebunker fired, pushing the spiked weight off and into the Crusher with such force its frame crumpled from the impact, rising up a several meters before crashing back down towards the highway. The second Crusher did not get the same opportunity, ripped apart by a single fifteen millimeter round from the rifle.

The Gunbolt considered Lu for a moment, squatted lower, and fired its secondary weapon. Twin electroplasmic shocks ripped free from a set of emitters beneath the micromissile arrays, arcs of electricity passing from the main bolts into anything conductive as they raced into Lu's feet. He staggered, the armor on his legs glowing dangerously hot, and his body twitched spasmodically from the shocks, but he remained standing.

Lu stalked forward, fighting the body spasms as he tried to take aim at the Gunbolt, just as another pair of micromissiles streaked away from it. Lu continued to hesitate, the his arm refusing to steady until the missiles were too close.

He pulled the trigger just as the warheads kissed his chest plating, his eyes still locked firmly onto the Gunbolt.

* * *

><p>"Christ, what the Hell is he thinking?" X demanded shrilly. "He can't take kind of abuse! Why isn't he dodging any of that?"<p>

Not answering, Volya leaned in on the overlooking window, smushing his nose against the transparisteel. Whatever was playing out in his mind, he kept to himself.

He did watch without blinking.

* * *

><p>Lu's expression remained blank once the smoke faded from the rocket strike, as though he'd never felt any of it. His armor was blackened and mauled at the point of impact, directly on his chest, and part of the synthskin on his face had been blown cleanly away. The rest was badly burnt, parts of it bubbling up, others charred black. His right eye was also completely gone, with cracks spreading from that part of his skull across his helmet. The crystal cover to his control chip also suffered damage, the circuitry within exposed. His jaw hung loosely by one of its hinges, flapping in the artificial wind in a grim display.<p>

Lu was still, as though he stood dead on his feet.

_"Can__ you __continue?"_ Volya's voice crackled over his helmet's receiver, and that was when Lu finally reacted, looking through the illusion surrounding him, at the faint impression of the observation deck hovering high in the clouds above.

"Damage superficial. Parts easily replaceable, per design." He paused for emphasis. "Am still combat capable."

Lu continued swatting Crushers out of the sky with disturbing precision, swinging the rifle around and shooting without even looking at his targets. He charged at Gunbolts with both mag pistols blazing, downing their missiles with massed fire, running through their electroplasmic bolts without care, ending them with his pilebunkers aimed directly where he knew their electronic brains were kept. The occasional Spiky rolled toward him, only to be met with a pilebunker or vicious kick, sending them flying into others of their kind. He spared nothing in his path, pausing on each kill, confirming them.

A thousand feet above the carnage, the first of two Bee Bladers descended upon Lu, who ignored it in favor of concentrating on reloading his weapons first before addressing the threat.

Modern Bee Bladers, also known by their military designation 'Mitsubatchi', were the culmination of years of development surrounding a light polycraft originally sold to the JSDF in the 2080's, and had proven a successful VTOL design for the armed forces of numerous countries. The Hunters had adopted them as a combination of physical transport and gunships meant to cordon off particularly nasty Mavericks if a situation escalated beyond control. On June 4th, 2118, many of the units at MHHQ had been subverted by Sigma's forces, turning parts of New Tokyo into bloodbaths. X managed to destroy two of the units before continuing onward toward his first confrontation with Vile. It was expected that any reploid Hunter worth the money spent on bringing them up to speed to be able to match or exceed that performance.

Compared to Lu, it was a massive machine, the rotor and jet wash from its three different propulsion systems actually pushing him back several feet before he braced himself into place. The six bipedal scouting drones it disgorged from its abdomen, 'Deerballs', did not rate to him as a threat, but the Blader itself was a ceramic-metal composite nightmare given form, demanding his respect. The twenty millimeter chain gun was only one of his concerns: the anti-tank missiles it carried were far more dangerous than the rockets fired by the Gunbolts. He could not survive that level of punishment.

Lu stood his ground, reaching for his mag pistols as the scout mecha drew closer, unloading both weapons as fast as they could be fired. The last of them collapsed at Lu's feet just as the Mitsubatchi's chain gun barked a response, drowning out everything else, walking a thin line through the concrete directly toward Lu.

With no time to reload the pistols or prepare his rifle, Lu kicked the remains of the closest scout as hard as he could, sending it flying directly into the 'eyes' of the Blader, effectively blinding it as the Deerball buried itself in the head of the unit, its legs comically hanging from the face in twisted angles. This caused it to spray wildly into the air for a moment, several rounds striking Lu in the chest and left shoulder before he could react, spinning him half way around and dropping him to one knee. With his right arm, he reached back for his magrifle and leveled it at the blinded machine, determining that the Blader presented enough of a threat that the weapon could be justified in use. That, and it was less likely the rounds would pass completely through the mechaniloid.

Ten shots later, the Blader sputtered in mid-air, then crashed into the highway, the whole span quaking under Lu's feet as he ran forward, leaping over the burning wreck just as the section folded in on itself, collapsing onto the lower deck dozens of feet below. His landing was rough, rolling several times before righting himself. His left arm now hung useless at his side, and part of his neck had been torn open by a near miss. A gaping wound spreading out across a his chest exposed his innards for all to see. Dark purple blood streamed from his wounds, pooling quickly at his feet.

Trembling, Lu detached the box-like magazine from his rifle, reaching for a fresh one on his thigh. The blood on his hands caused him to drop it twice before he managed to slap it into the receiver. He clawed around himself, looking for his mag pistols, but only found one in working order. Three messages of importance flashed across his HUD.

** AUTO-STASIS WARNING: 5:00 BEGIN FINAL UPLOAD Y/N? **

** Y CONFIRM UPLOAD COMMENCE- TIME TO COMPLETION 2:32**

** AUTO-DISTRESS ACTIVE**

* * *

><p>"God. We've gotta stop this." X muttered. The Azure Hunter began to reach for the simulator killswitch.<p>

"Do not shut it down." Volya ordered woodenly, his back turned to the others at the window. The demand caught the two senior Hunters and their surrogate father off guard.

"Are you serious?" Zero demanded. "Your guy's _dying_ down there. Hell, even I tell my unit to pack it in when it gets this bad!"

Volya looked back over his shoulder with his blind eye, letting his eyepatch glare at them. "I have asked him once already if he wished to stop. He intends on finishing this, and I wish to know why."

"At the rate he's going, he won't be ready for a mission for weeks!" Dr. Cain protested.

"As he is now, mentally, he is not ready." Volya countered. The Russian turned his back on them. "But there is something coming alive in him. Let him finish what he starts."

* * *

><p>Lu continued forward, disabling Crushers and Gunvolts with his feet and remaining pilebunker as necessary, occasionally using his remaining mag-pistol, though sparingly. With one arm, his options had become limited. Despite this, he continued to hunt down everything in his path, flowing from kill to kill with greater urgency than before.<p>

The second Blader did not have a chance to settle in close to the highway as the first unit had. Returning to a full sprint, Lu jumped off an overturned cargo trailer, through incoming fire from the chain gun, onto its face, leading with the pilebunker. The spike drove only partway through its green eye lenses. A second firing sent spiderwebs of cracks across the glass, and he shoved his right arm all the way in, grabbing a hold what felt like a set of cables. Emitting a high pitched whine, the mechaniloid bucked once, trying to throw Lu off, still firing the chain gun as it did so. Though mostly blind, it could tell it failed removing the reploid from its face, so it began to spin wildly.

Rearing back, Lu brought his head against the glass once, twice, three times, until finally he had shattered it, creating enough space to use his head, remaining arm, and legs to try and rip the face wide open, but quickly lost his grip and footing on the machine, falling back toward the highway. Landing hard, but upright, he did not skip a beat, immediately pulling the mag rifle from his back and taking aim on the Blader. Another ten shots later, and the machine began a deceptively graceful spiral toward the city below, trailing smoke the whole way.

His right ankle had sustained a glancing hit from the chain gun, exacerbated by the long fall and rough landing. Lu did not seem to notice even as he continued to run towards his objective, occasionally landing on the foot wrong, causing him to stumble, yet he did not complain once.

Finally taking notice of the Hunter rampaging below, the _Death__ Rogumer_ curved around a set of burning skyscrapers in the distance. Lu kept going, waiting for it to meet him.

The airship completed turning its long turn, bringing itself to bear directing in front and above Lu, its bay doors, dropping off a squadron of Road Attackers in a final attempt to bring the Hunter down. Each driver was systematically picked off by the mag rifle, Lu continuing to march forward towards the _Death__ Rogumer_ as it hovered in place, the cargo bay doors yawning open.

Kneeling down, Lu worked on reloading the mag rifle, having more trouble with it this time. The fingers of his right hand refused to cooperate, repeatedly failing to maintain a grip on his final box magazine as he struggled to jam it into place. Even when the sound of Vile's Goliath heavy ride armor rolled through the air, parting smoke from the burning Road Attackers, he did not look away from his present task.

"You're new." Vile's head tilted to one side. "You're definitely not any Hunter I recognize."

Lu finally managed to fit the magazine in place, working the bolt once to chamber a round. He staggered to his feet, finally looking at the Maverick, the same blank stare on what was left of his face.

"Then again, with how hard you've gotten your ass kicked, it probably explains why I don't recognize you." The Maverick laughed at this. "One of X's buddies? His kinda are all a bit soft in the head when it comes to combat, is that a good explanation?"

The Hunter leveled his rifle at Vile, aiming for his head, his arm twitching with each spark of electricity coursing through his body. He was running out of time, but patiently waited for his arm to stabilize.

"Can I get a name? Something?" The Goliath launched forward, tearing up the concrete behind it as it dashed, one massive fist raised high. "Oh, now I see, you can't talk, you don't even have a proper mouth anymore. How bout THAT?"

The first round passed an inch from Vile's head, causing him to swerve the armor to one side, through the dividing wall, trying to flank the Hunter.

"That's new..." Vile drove one of the fists into the road to help the machine corner, making another beeline back towards Lu. "Hey short-stuff, where you'd get the hand cannon-"

The rifle barked nine more times, the shots all hitting the chest plating of the Goliath as it drew closer, denting the armor and almost throwing the machine off balance, but Vile retained control. None had penetrated the Goliath.

"HEY! BAD HUNTER! BAD!" The Goliath had lost a portion of its forward momentum from Lu's final vollet, but there was no way the incoming punch wouldn't seriously hurt the silent Hunter. He twisted his body to meet the oncoming fist with his left side,trying to keep his working arm in one piece, and was blasted clean off of his feet, through an abandoned sedan, into one of the retaining walls on the highway.

"That had to hurt." Vile sounded pleased with himself. "You know, I was hoping X would be here. We killed his buddy, after all. Remind me, what was his name again?" The Goliath slid up to Lu, ripping him free from the wall, pulling him up closer to the Maverick, close enough that they could get a good look at one another. Lu's head lolled to one side, but still he remained focus on Vile as he spoke, still showing no concern for his predicament. "Maybe he figured if he sent a good punching bag like you, we'd play nice."

The pilebunker spike on his right arm drove through the massive hand holding onto Lu, loosening the grip enough that the smaller reploid slipped out of its grasp and onto the highway. He barely made contact with the ground before springing at Vile, right arm outstretched for his head.

The pilebunker shifted itself to fire from below his hand.

"What the hell?" Vile managed to cry out in surprise as Lu's fingers slipped off of his helmet, slick with his own blood. The spike fired, missing the control chip by inches as Vile managed to pull himself and the Goliath back just enough.

"TRY THAT AGAIN!" The Maverick roared as he leveled his shoulder cannon, firing the now iconic paralytic blasts that had brought X to his knees.

Lu flipped back once, landing on his bad foot and crushing it, but still retaining his balance, even as he twisted his body wildly. There was a gentle click, and his left arm was flung free, absorbing the incoming blasts before impacting against the Goliath's armor.

"Are you kidding me?" The ride armor launched forward once more, leading with its left hand, a straight on shot, intent on mashing Lu into a metal paste-

It was a glancing blow to where his left arm had been connected, sending Lu spinning in place…

The pilebunker spike burst through the elbow joint on the Goliath's arm, severing the forearm cleanly away. The fist carried its momentum off the side off the highway. The odds had somehow been evened

"ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME?" Vile spun the Goliath around, trying to backhand the pesky Hunter with the remaining fist, only managing to tear through air and concrete. Lu slid back from evading the second swipe, taking a knee once more once he'd stopped, looking around rapidly.

Vile was no longer in the Ride Armor.

Lu looked upward just an electroplasmic burst took him full on the face. He shook violently, unable to struggle even as Vile landed in front of him, picking him up by his neck with one hand. The fingertips on his other hand slid open, revealing a set of microbusters, all aimed at his face. It was over.

Lu had lost.

"You." Vile growled. "YOU. You know what YOU have done? DO YOU?" Vile slammed the Hunter against the ground. "YOU have managed to piss me off MORE than anyone else I've ever met. That's an accomplishment."

Lu's response was to rest his right hand onto Vile's head, the pilebunker aimed directly at his forehead sliding back, preparing to fire.

"Lets see who's faster, huh?" Vile snarled. "Come on Silent Bob, lets see some guts. I dare you. Do it. Come on. COME ON!" His fingers flashed with light just as the spike drove forward…

Passing harmlessly through Vile's helmet as the Maverick began to vanish, the entire world disintegrating line by line. The sky, the highway, the buildings surrounding them, the fires that had burned seemingly for hours, even the smells of battle and slaughter, all dissolving into pixels and nothing.

Vile staggered back several steps, looking around while taking wild swings at the disappearing environment. Even as parts of his body winked out of existence, he raged at the powers that be.

"COME ON I WAS SO CLOSE, I HAD HIM, HE WAS GONNA BE SO-"

And then he was gone, leaving Lu alone on the floor of the simulation hall, in a rapidly expanding pool of reploid blood. He heard footsteps and voices, and was confused by the concern in them.

A final message flashed across his HUD.

** UPLOAD COMPLETE.**

He wanted to smile, but couldn't.

* * *

><p>The simulation was still shutting itself down when Goat and the others, urged by a frantic Dr. Cain, rushed into holoroom 4.<p>

**"****Simulation ****failed. ****Rank: ****C ****minus.****"**

"Jesus, he's more scrap than standing." Foxfire uttered. "Lu, Lu, can you hear me?"

What was left of Lu sparked as it tried to turn its head. "Major system errors. Beginning shutdown." He slumped into auto-stasis, earning a fresh curse from the vulpinoid.

"Bugger took a beating." Huey murmured.

"Yes, he did." Dr. Cain agreed, walking into their midst. The old man was joined by Volya and a pair of orderlies. "We should have stopped it sooner." He gave Volya a hard look, but the Russian was unaffected. "Don't worry. We'll get Lu up to the Medical Bay and have Hazil start piecing him back together."

Soundlessly, the medical reploids hoisted Lu's body onto a gurney and hauled him away.

Huey and Nils both looked worried, and Cain snapped his fingers to get their attention. "Hey. You two. He'll be fine, trust me. We take care of our own here. I'm going with him. Once you're all done, come up and check on him. All right?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Doctor Cain." Nils nodded.

"Just call me Doc." The MHHQ's leader smiled, and hobbled after Lu.

Volya gave them five seconds to worry about Lu's condition, and only just. "Commanders X and Zero are up in the Bridge. Once you have decided who is going next, we will continue."

"Hey, show a little respect. One of your "men" just got hauled off half dead." Hawkins snapped. Volya's glacial personality grated on his nerves.

"By his own actions." Volya retorted, and walked away with his coat shuffling around him. "Decide quickly."

"That smug, self-important…" Hawkins muttered under his breath.

"Easy, easy." Nils warned him. He walked into the holoroom and picked up Lu's abandoned magweaponry. He took it out and shoved it back into the weapons locker in the corridor. "Volya has his reasons, I'm sure of it. He wouldn't have let things get that bad just to see Lu get hurt."

"Says you." Huey chimed in. The pilot walked into the chamber. "I'll go next, then. You can bring up the rear, big fella."

"How thoughtful of you." Goat said dryly.

* * *

><p>The world tore itself apart, bit by bit, iota by iota. For an unnerving fraction of a second, Huey felt himself plunged into the featureless grey <em>in <em>_between_ of simulspace as the program loaded. A galaxy of swirling motes coalesced into ghost-shapes, suddenly snapped into solid forms. Huey blinked twice to readjust his optic intake, and flipped his visor into safety position. The simulation had begun. He shivered—and not as an autonomic response to temperature variance.

_A__ road. __I__'__m __on __a __road._ He recognized it, of course. Any reploid who had either lived through the Day of Sigma or experienced it during Basic Indoctrination would instantly—almost instinctively—identify the snarled ruins of the Shintokyo Superhighway Interchange with the epicenter of the most infamous Maverick strike in history. Tattered shreds of smoke drifted from the steel skeletons of slaughtered mechaniloids and personal transport vehicles alike to meld with the bruised clouds above.

Something whined in his ear—instructions, he thought. Something about the simulation hadn't quite synched with his system yet. A needling headache had begun to build in his prefrontal circuitry, though whether that was a result of the advanced holography or his chronic problems was impossible to tell. He slapped the side of his helmet with the heel of a gauntleted hand, and the keening vanished.

**"…****by ****any ****means ****necessary,****"** the voice concluded.

"Wait, what?" Huey frowned. "I didn't copy that. Can you repeat?" The artificially neutral voice began to list the course objectives again. As soon as the first toneless syllables had spoken through Huey's comm circuit, a deafening roar drowned them out. Falling into a crouch and pointing his buster high, he gazed at a massive carrier swooping low over the highway, close enough for him to make out the outlines of a "7" underneath a newly-painted stylized wolf-and-sigma emblem.

His momentary surprise soon gave way to awe as the mobile air base passed him by and receded into the distance, dropping dozens of mechaniloids and automated seek-and-destroy modules into the beleaguered city beneath. Though he had seen Rogumer-class airships from a distance before, this was totally different.

"Oh _hell_ yes." A ferine grin had somehow worked its way onto his face. "I want one."

The voice finished speaking. Huey grimaced. "Uh . . . sorry. I was looking at the attack carrier. Do you suppose you could—you know what? Never mind. I think I get the gist of it. You want to whip me up an Ixion Kappa?" An impatient second passed, and he gestured at the fleeing airship. "C'mon, it's getting away! Any sort of attack helicopter would do."

**"****Negative.**** Parameter ****mismatch.****"**

His jaw dropped in stupefied disbelief. "Wait, are you kidding? This is an _infantry_ exercise?" He waved in the general direction of the observation deck—at least, where he assumed it was. "Hey, guys! I've discovered a problem with the program!" He folded his arms. Several moments passed, the mournful wind and the distant kroom of explosions his only reply. He gritted his teeth. "Well, that's just _tops_. What a swell idea—let's test the combat pilot's experience by throwing him into an infantry meat grinder! No wonder you guys have such a sterling rep for forward thinking! I can't believe this! Did you interview the surgeons by having them do interpretive dance for you?"

He took a bracing breath, reactivated his buster, and glared at the rubble-strewn highway ahead. "Well, fine. If that's the way it is, no time like the present, I guess."

A few cars passed by him as he worked his way towards the objective area indicated by his HUD. The drivers' faces had taken a pale, frantic cast, and Huey fought the urge to leap atop their hoods and scream like a madman, just to see their reactions. _Just __like __that __time __we __chased__ the __organ __traffickers __into __Pueblo.__ Man, __that __was __a __good__ time!_ The traffic grew thicker and more congested as he drew closer to the first break in the highway's structure, and he had to weave back and forth. A giant spiked wheel ground towards him, a standard scout-class drone. He leaped atop a passing car and let it pass.

"Wait, really?" He chuckled. "It's just gonna let me go? Man, this is gonna be a breeze!"

An electrified globe sizzled into his chest, leaving angry scorch marks scarred into the burnished midnight blue of his thoracic chassis. His smile gone, he stumbled backwards and struggled to focus on his unseen attacker. There it hulked, a miniature arsenal of electroplasma weapons and guided-missile banks piled atop one another and held up by legs that looked woefully unequal to the task.

_Altair__ Microsystems__ Model__ 4-Omicron-4: __Gunbolt_, read his HUD.

"I know what it is," he growled. "Fifty of these things held the I-25 corridor all up and down the front range for a day and a half back in '23." He used the battered remains of a blasted tanker truck to shield his advance, and kept a steady stream of plasma fire concentrated on his enemy's optical array. At least, he intended to; somehow, his aim kept drifting to the left, and his shots ricocheted harmlessly off the burst-proof armor. Meanwhile, a micromissile whistled past his head, exploding into the concrete of the already-broken freeway.

"It's like damn Basic all over again," he muttered. He let a slow trickle of energy build in his buster until he had achieved a full charge, and dodged around the truck. The actinic blast took the Gunbolt out at the knee and sent it reeling over the edge of the elevated highway into the wreckage below. He found himself leaning over the edge, cackling with glee and throwing bits of debris at the flaming wreck. After a moment, he straightened and cleared his throat. _Come__ on, __let__'__s __try __to __keep __it __together __for __this._

"Eh," he said aloud, and shrugged. "I was going for the face, but whatever." _Smooth_.

The carrier had swung wide around the city, and its smoke-hazed silhouette grew more defined as it moved back towards Huey. He kicked his dash module on and blasted forward, intent on his prey. _If __I __can __just __get __into __that, __I__'__ll__ rock __this __simulation__ into __the __freakin__' __ground_! His chase brought him closer, leaping over torn gaps in the road and dodging around the assault of the repurposed transport 'droids that attempted to drop their heavy spiked cargo on his head. Even further encounters with the Gunbolt sentinels left him unfazed.

_Not__ so __bad.__ Guess __I __haven__'__t __forgotten __as __much__ as __I __thought_. A burst of gunfire pulled him up short, and he found himself frantically jerking his head back and forth looking for cover as a massive aerial mechaniloid hovered into view from within the penumbral canopy afforded by the smoky clouds.

_Mitsubachi__ Insectoid __Line: __Bee __Blader._

"Yeah, thanks," he griped at his HUD. Bullets rattled from the concrete and snapped at his feet. "You know what, if you don't have anything helpful to say, I'm shutting you off." And he did, as he finally ducked behind a half-shattered column. A few errant micromissiles exploded around him, the shrapnel shooting into his visor with jarring violence.

"Hey, let's negotiate!" Huey called. "I'm a pilot, you're a helicopter—sort of. We should work something out!"

A spray of bullets peppered the column, sending shards of slicing concrete rocketing in all directions. Huey sighed, and let a manic grin jerk the corners of his mouth. "Well, when diplomacy has failed, there's only one answer! Load the cannon with grapeshot and shoot into the crowd!" Howling, he dashed around the corner, his buster blazing in a syncopated shriek of ionized air. Sliding beneath the hovering monstrosity, he loosed blast after blast of plasma into its underbelly. A telltale groan and sudden listing of its trajectory suddenly made Huey question the wisdom of standing directly beneath the mechaniloid.

"Okay, bad call," he panted as he dashed from beneath the crashing drone. A clumsy, stumbling roll took him out from under its falling bulk, and he allowed himself a chuckle. However, just as he was about to move around it, the supporting beams of the freeway snarled like a wounded beast and buckled.

Without even the chance to swear, Huey found himself falling, along with everything else nearby. Luckily, the descent was as short as it was rapid—barely a dozen meters. He took a few gasping breaths, flipped a middle finger to the destroyed bee 'bot, and began the arduous process of leapfrogging up another supporting column to continue his pursuit of the airship.

* * *

><p>Volya was watching Huey's progress so intently that he'd tuned out the other two presences in the room. With a loud smack of his lips, Zero Omega pulled Volya's eye away from the downward looking window. Volya blinked when he saw that the Crimson Hunter was noshing away at a bucket of…popcorn?<p>

"I tell you, after Lu's run, I was beginning to have my doubts about this group." Zero said. He swallowed and held out the bucket. "It's double butter. Want some?"

Volya's face scrunched up a little tighter, and Zero shrugged and pulled the bucket back. "More for me, then."

"Well, hey, give me some." X complained, yanking the popcorn away from his friend. "Huey likes to talk a lot, I notice."

"So would you, if you had not been able to move or say a word for the last year and a half." Volya crisply retorted.

"Come again?" Zero came to attention.

Volya gave his head a shake and looked down at Huey. The Bridge of the holographic training center afforded him a high-definition view of the action below, letting him see every twitch of his pilot as he fought in a simulation so heavily geared against his specialties.

"Morgan was imprisoned in active stasis these last eighteen months, for the crime of black marketeering. He was dishonorably discharged by the New Denver Police Department, lost his rank, lost everything."

Both X and Zero shivered at the sentence Huey had existed under: Active stasis differed from the normal stasis that reploids slept in, and the full unconscious auto-stasis that they dropped into when low on energy or in need of critical repairs. Active stasis meant paralyzing a reploid while keeping their mind fully intact…not allowing it to rest, not allowing it to defragment. Trapping them within their body, a double prison that rendered most insane. Those in active stasis were usually found unfit for socialization after their time was served, and destroyed. The humans responsible for their deaths preferred the term _euthanized._

Volya grunted again, watching Huey, searching his posture and frantic approach for every sign of instability. He had seen plenty already.

"I do not know why the GDC assigned him to me, but so long as he is here, I must know all I can. If we are lucky, he has not lost his mind."

Volya's grim mood finally forced Zero to put the bucket of salty snack to the side. The Commander of Zephyr Team sighed again.

"Unfortunately, luck never travels with me."

* * *

><p>The second Bee Blader came as less of a surprise, and troubled Huey less than the first. With his HUD disabled, he dubbed the walking spherical robots the dropped from its abdominal chassis "Dumballs." His progress was fairly steady after that, notwithstanding a few close calls. A few sphecoid scout 'droids harried him as he drew closer to the Rogumer, which hung invitingly in the sky only a kilometer away.<p>

The sound of a fusion engine made Huey smile—somewhere nearby, a personal transport vehicle was still operating. If he could commandeer it, maybe he could reach the airship before it moved again. For now, the gargantuan swordfish-shaped carrier seemed content to maintain its low altitude hover while it fired missiles and plasma blasts at the city beneath it.

The basso growl of an overcharged fusion engine preceded a single-occupant armored car as it screeched around the corner. Huey caught a brief impression of a centrally-mounted light-caliber plasma cannon before the vehicle was bearing down on him, its barrel spitting luminous death.

Laughing, he dashed towards it at an oblique angle, coming alongside the open cockpit. With a well-timed jump, he had landed atop the hapless pilot—an early-generation cyclopean reploid—and bodily hurled him from its seat.

It was like coming home.

The seat felt molded to his exact contours, the weathered grip of the steering apparatus perfectly spaced for his hands. Even the weapons control array had been thoughtfully arranged in an intuitive, instinctive manner. Huey took a deep breath of satisfaction, and let it out, savoring the moment.

_Now__—__time __to __show __these __turkeys __what __I __can __do._

A dozen armored attack cars fell prey to his quick maneuvering and relentless cannon fire. Though equipped identically, there was no way the standard-issue early models could possibly compete with Huey's prowess. A pair of them tried to capture him in a pincer maneuver, which ended with both enemies consumed in a fireball of twisted metal and Huey roaring with elation. After a few minutes, he had dispatched enough of the other drivers that whatever agency guided the _Death__ Rogumer_ took notice. The great airship glided towards him with a roar, dozens of the armored cars falling from its undercarriage like seed pods.

"More!" he shouted. "I can do this all day!" His hands played over the buttons and levers of his stolen car, deftly sliding between his attackers, leaving smoking ruin in his wake and the sound of maddened laughter. _Man,__ if __this __doesn__'__t __get __me __an __SA __rating, __nothing __will!_

A shadow appeared on the hood of his car, and Huey glanced skyward just in time to see the outline of a Chimera-type ride armor rapidly descending from the egress hatch of the departing aircraft. Well, dropping, more like. An inchoate oath formed on his lips as tons of mechanized steel landed on the hood of his car, flipping it end-over-end like a coin. The ace pilot part of him coolly calculated trajectories, survival probability, and evacuation protocol.

The part in charge of his mouth repeated, "Shitshitshitshitshit!"

The car landed on its side, ground to a precarious halt overhanging the edge of the freeway. Huey admired the terrifying, seemingly endless drop as he scrabbled from the cockpit onto solid ground. The susurration of hydraulic pistons accompanied the grinding advance of the armored mech as it approached. Its pilot—a custom-upgraded combat model in violet and black—sneered through his fixed visor.

"Poor decision, Hunter. I thought HQ would send its best to face me."

Huey sidled away from the edge, his buster slowly charging. "Yeah, well. Its best is busy watching. You got its craziest." He cocked his head. "Sweet ride, by the way. I'm a pilot myself. Why don't we siddown and share some stories? I mean, I know this is just a simulation, but I bet you've got some—" An iron first the size of his head took him off his feet, launching him half a dozen meters. His thoracic chassis cracked.

"Fine," he coughed. Blood flecked his lips. _For__ a__ simulation, __this __sure __hurts __like __hell._

His plasma shots soared over the reploid's helmet in stuttering bursts and disappeared into the moiled clouds, leaving ragged puncture wounds behind. _What __the __hell __is __wrong__ with __my __aim?_ A desperate game of tag ensued, with Huey just barely avoiding the plasma and fists of the power armor, and frantically shooting a stream of distracting projectiles at its pilot. All the while, his mind raced.

_There._ His mind rapidly constructed a gridwork of intersecting parabolas and balanced them with projected damage sustained and velocity calculation. _It__'__ll__ be __close, __but __if __it __works,__ I__'__ll __be __sitting__ pretty. __Well, __less __ugly, __at__ least._ Throwing his arms wide, he shouted, "All right, you got me. Fair's fair! Blow the crap outta me!"

Huey had been punched countless times in his career, ranging from the drunken assault of angry human malcontents to the crippling, crushing blows of disgruntled giant mining mechaniloids. He figured he knew how to take a punch, especially if he was expecting it.

This one still hurt like crazy. The ride-armor's fist crunched into his chest, right above the central node of his costal understructure. As he coughed blood, he grinned. Like prophecy, his calculations unfolded before him. He slammed up and backwards into the supporting streetlight behind him, and bounced forward with just enough momentum to carry him above the surprised pilot…

"Surprise, asshat." His charged plasma blast took the combat 'roid in the face of its helmet, and his hands gripped the rim of its cheekplate assembly. Recollection of his submission combat training from Basic flashed through his head as he tore the shocked pilot from its seat and hurled him in an airborne somersault from his perch.

It took seconds after that. Though coughing alarmingly, and ignoring a dozen shrill warnings from his auto-repair system queue, he slid into the vacated seat of the ride armor, and began to chuckle. Though obviously skilled and durable, his enemy was no match for Huey now that he had taken control of the armored exoskeleton. Huey's fists rocketed into the violet Maverick again and again. When Vile had fallen to his knees, Huey jammed the button to activate the dash function, and crushed him beneath the armored tread of the power chassis.

"Damn straight!" he crowed, flipping his hinged visor back up to the top of his helmet. "That's how we do things in D-town!"

**"****Objective ****complete,****"** the computer answered. **"****B-plus ****combat ****rating.****"**

"Huh. B for bullshit. That was A-list material or nothing," Huey sulked. And the world tore itself apart.

* * *

><p>For the first time in a long while, Zero watched X perform an action that was so against his normal emotive responses that it could only mean something, <em>"<em>_Had__ done __broke __up __in __his __poor __ole__' __head,__"_ as Pugs liked to drawl. X's left eye was twitching.

"That…Was…" The Azure Hunter tried to voice his opinion. Zero rolled his eyes and picked up his popcorn bucket, tossing it into the wastebin.

"X, just be quiet, you're embarrassing me."

"His ground combat is subpar; accuracy with his standard weapons is sorely lacking." Volya catalogued. "But in a vehicle…well. His performance was something else. And that move at the end, hijacking that Maverick's own 'Mech to use against him…innovative. Very risky, though. He took a lot of damage to lull Vile into a false sense of security."

"Yeah." X sourly folded his arms. "We're going to have to rewrite the program again."

"Joy. More headaches for the Tech crews." Zero chuckled. "I gotta tell you, Volya, Huey sure seems crazy to me. Only an insane person would try to 'jack Vile's ride like that."

"Perhaps. I believe Morgan simply acted how he knew best: Lacking a vehicle, he commandeered whatever he could. If we were to put him into an armored VTOL transport in combat…well, this has confirmed that it would be something to see." Volya blinked his one good eye. "It also tells me he is in desperate need of target practice. We do not always have the luxury of equipment, da?"

"There's the truth." X agreed. "The way some of our guys burn through Landchasers, I've been trying to get Cain to approve a statute on their use. But. To summarize, Commander, you have one A rank Hunter, one B rank Hunter, and one C…maybe even D ranked Hunter under your command so far. That's a pretty wide disparity in ability there."

"And now you've got the big guy coming up last." Zero motioned, directing their attention to the lower corridor as Huey stepped out of the simulator with his scars and nodded to Goat and Foxfire. "How do you think he'll do, X?"

"Hard to say. I try not to make predictions about Hunter performance." X said cautiously.

"Hm." Volya smiled at the two veteran Hunters and winked. "I will make one. Goat has a…loud personality. His test will not be one of stealth, speed, or cunning. He will simply charge through it." The Russian reploid couldn't prevent the chuckle. "There is a reason he has his nickname, after all."

* * *

><p>"Hey, you be careful in there, big fella." Huey warned Goat. "One of us walked out of there mostly busted up, and I took a beating myself."<p>

The silver and gunmetal reploid checked his shoulder cannon's feedline into the munitions backpack one last time and hoisted his favorite model Bazooka over his other shoulder. "Any advice?"

"Don't hesitate in the end." Tomahawk Foxfire warned. "Give it everything."

Goat winked at the other two. "Hey, I plan on having a little fun. I always give it everything."

The door opened for him, and Goat stepped inside the room. After a few seconds, the walls dissolved away…

* * *

><p>"Well, then," Nils muttered to himself as the holographic simulation appeared around him. "Time to party." Looking ahead of him, he grimaced at the amount of distance between him and the <em>Death <em>_Rogumer_ up ahead. "This is going to take forever. I hate these point-A-to-point-B-missions. A situation like this requires a definitive plan of action." Thinking for a moment, he nodded sharply. "Don't stop. Ruin everything. The usual." Recalling his guesswork on how his comrades had been doing so far; he grimaced. "Still, it could use something special, to put a little spin on things..."

While he pondered the situation, his eyes gravitated to the Rogumer again, and after a moment, his frown disappeared as he wondered if anybody had ever actually tried _boarding_ the damn thing during this particular simulation. There was a healthy chance that it wasn't programmed to handle that possibility, but even if it wasn't, shorting out the program would be memorable enough to be a satisfactory result for him. And if it was... Nils chuckled. "This will be _excellent._"

Cracking his knuckles, he began plodding on ahead, reaching his miserable top speed in only a few seconds. Not for the first time, he grumbled a few curses under his breath directed towards whatever idiot had decided that somebody as massive as him wouldn't need dash boots. Of course, there _were_ advantages to being so huge; namely, the amount of armament he could carry. When spiked wheel drones began threatening him, he simply blew them away with the heavy buster on his left arm without even slowing his advance.

Heavy "Gun Volt" missile batteries would have been more problematic, were it not for the variable demolitions cannon on his right shoulder, Nils' pride and joy. It was capable of launching both old-fashioned mortars and more high-tech plasmic explosives; in this case, he selected the latter, blowing each Gun Volt out of his way with a single shot. Striding past the smoking debris, his eyes lit up when he saw the MC-85 "Crusher" drones approaching.

Waiting for the first one to get within arm's distance before blowing it away, he reached out and snatched it out of the sky before employing his last weapon of choice; his own natural, massive strength. Even ordinary reploids were ten times as strong as any human, and Nils' designers had packed even more cybernetic "muscle" into his massive frame, more than enough to rip the drone in half with his bare hands. Discarding the upper portion, he seized the dangling cable attached to its heavy spiked weight in his right hand.

"Okay!" Nils beamed, twirling it experimentally while he continued to walk forward. "Now we're talking!" As the rest of the Crushers encroached, he lashed out with his makeshift chain mace, and smashed another one out of the sky. "Yes! _I__ am __Iron __Man!_" Grinning like a six-year-old, he demolished the rest of the enemy with buster and mace and continued onward, bursting into song as he advanced down the highway. "_Has __he __lost __his __mind?__ Can __he __see __or __is __he __blind?_"

* * *

><p>"Is he <em>singing?<em>" Zero asked in disbelief, staring at the screen as Goat continued crashing along the highway, shooting, clubbing and in some cases kicking anything that got in his way. "_Why_ is he singing?"

"And surprisingly on key, too," Volya noted calmly; he was the only one in the room who seemed to be taking his old friend's antics in stride. Presumably, he was used to it. "He must have been practicing."

X slowly lowered his face into his hand.

"Okay, here comes one of the Bee Bladers," Zero muttered with a hint of nasty amusement. "Let's see how this joker does against those... oh, _come__on!_" Goat had whirled his morningstar around his head before launching it into the propeller blades holding the massive assault mech aloft, entangling them and reducing them to twisted metal nearly instantly. Crashing to the highway, the Blader brought down the section below it, bearing it and Goat down onto a pair of backup support pillars. "Are you _kidding__ me?__Now_ what's he doing?"

"Looks like he's trying to pull the chaingun off the front," X said, raising an eyebrow. "Can't say I've seen _that_ before."

"Won't work," Zero grunted with a certain satisfaction. "He might be able to get it off, but it'll be useless without the ammo belts and power supply." Onscreen, Goat had come to the same conclusion, and was now throwing the chaingun's barrel to the ground and stomping on it. This turned out to be a mistake; the highway began creaking alarmingly again, and Goat's head jerked up before he turned and scrambled for the column behind the Bee Blader. He barely managed to slam himself into it before the highway cracked in half, and both sections fell onto the city below, along with the wreckage of the Bee Blader.

"Boy, am I glad _I_ didn't do _that_," X said, deadpan.

"He does this sort of thing a lot," Volya admitted. "It is one of the reasons he eventually started getting assigned to less... enviable positions."

"How long is this gonna take him?" Zero muttered, ignoring the subtext of that particular comment as he watched Goat slowly clamber up the column. "He climbs even slower than he runs."

"That would be another reason." Volya shook his head. "I must confess, I have never met a slower reploid. Even civilians can outrun him easily."

Goat continued to make his way up, eventually pulling himself back onto the highway with a grunt, only for the column to creak alarmingly and start falling away towards the chasm. Now yelling curses at the top of his lungs, the huge reploid leaped into the next section of highway and ran along it as it, too, began to fall away beneath his feet. Jumping off of it as it fell, he slammed into the next column just like he had the previous one, though thankfully much higher up this time. This didn't prevent it from pulling loose as well, and the chain of disaster continued.

"Five bucks says he falls," Zero growled.

"Save your money." X shook his head. "I looked him up. He's been in active service for five years. If this kind of thing was going to catch up to him, it would have by now."

"Exactly." Volya nodded. "Nils may be stupid, and he may be slow... but I have yet to see anything in this world that could actually _stop_ him." This was proven as soon as the reploid finally managed to get ahead of the collapsing highway and regain a stable footing, at which point the second Bee Blader descended. Unimpressed, Goat finally leveled the bazooka he'd not yet fired at all in the run and let loose with both barrels. The powerful rockets screamed in and shredded the head of the mechaniloid, hurling chunks of debris up into its rotors with lethal effect. Again, the highway collapsed, and again, he went through his routine of prying off the chaingun, stomping on it, and running for his life.

"He's screwing with us," Zero said flatly as they watched him accidentally demolish the highway beneath him _again_. "He's doing it on purpose. He _has_ to be."

"I thought the same, the first time I worked with him," Volya told him, shrugging. "I've never managed to... how do you say... catch him at it, though. At this point, I believe it is genuine."

"Then how the hell is he still alive?" X asked dubiously. "I don't care _how_ tough you are, there's got to be _some_ point where acting like that catches up to you."

Volya just chuckled.

* * *

><p>"Excellent!" Nils smiled as he saw the Road Attackers blazing down the highway towards him, deployed by the <em>Death<em>_Rogumer_ now that he was finally near it. "These things are terrific!" He aimed for the driver on the first one that approached, and as the car continued past blindly, he reached over and wrenched the heavy cannon off of its hood. Tucking it under one arm, he continued onward, blowing the vehicles away with their own armament until he reached the Rogumer. Staring up at the aerial dreadnought, he made a few jumps towards it, left hand waving in the air.

"So, that won't work," he grumbled as the lift on the Rogumer's underside began deploying more Road Attackers. "There has to be some way I can get up there. Maybe if I just fired some mortars in when it launches those vehicles?" Shaking his head, he sidestepped an onrushing Attacker. "Maybe if I jump really high, I can grab onto the bottom of the lift and pull myself up? No, that's stupid." Another Attacker charged, and he stepped around both it and the first one as it barreled towards him from behind. "Maybe if I..."

A plasma shot from the second one's hood cannon hit him in the back, and he whirled around, driving his fist through its roof into the engine. "Will you cut that out, already? I'm trying to think here!" Staring down at the now-immobile vehicle, he slowly smiled. "Hey... I just got a _great_ idea." Bending over, he grabbed the sides of the car, and with a roar, pulled it off the ground and flipped it overhead, smashing it down onto the top of the first Attacker like a sandwich. "Yes! Now I just need a few more!"

When more Road Attackers were deployed, he added them to the pile, and once he had four of them, he climbed on top and waited for the lift to deploy once more. "Come on, come on... Damn. Figures." Vile was standing on it, in his specialized Chimera ride armor. Jumping down to the ground, he took in the sight before him. Nils stared back without a word, still standing atop the pile of crushed cars.

"I..." Vile eventually said. "You... look, just what the hell are you _doing_?"

"Well..." Nils shrugged. "I was _going_to jump off of there onto that lift of yours, board the Rogumer, rampage through it until I could find the controls, try to figure out how to work them, give up and just start kicking them until they did something, end up plowing it into the ground in a perfect swan dive, and jump through the windshield just in time to escape the explosion, albeit in a highly painful manner."

"How very precise." Vile's voice was flat. "All of that, by yourself?"

"It's what I do." Shrugging, Nils jumped off of the pile and landed in front of him, sizing his enemy up. As if prompted by the same cue, both of their gazes traveled towards each others' shoulder cannons. After a moment, Nils broke the silence. "Mine's bigger."

"And did you want to run that joke into the ground?" Vile asked sardonically. "Perhaps we could quote _Spaceballs_."

"No thanks, I'm on a time limit." Nils winced. "Even if I've probably blown that already. No sense making it worse, though. Let's get on with it, shall we?"

"You know what?" Vile said slowly. "I've known you for less than a minute, and I already hate you, so I'm not going to even try to make any sense of that. Die." The Ride Armor shot forward, and its right arm slammed into Nils, driving him several feet back with a pained grunt. However, he remained on his feet, and Vile was forced to adjust his path at the last moment to avoid a collision that would have cost both of them their footing. It would have been much more costly for the Chimera than for Nils.

"Your right hook isn't bad." Nils told him cheerfully as Vile passed him. "My turn!" As the mech turned around, he aimed his bazooka and loosed two more fragmenting rockets straight into its chest. The massive mech had been built to withstand enough plasma to blow a hole through a mountain, but old-fashioned demolitions were another story. Vile's charge was halted, and cracks appeared in the mech's hull. Growling, he attempted to rush the massive reploid again, only for his ride armor to be rocked by another explosion from Goat's shoulder-fired mortars, and then another.

"Why, you..." Desperate now, the Maverick dropped the bubble canopy protecting his cockpit and opened fire with his own shoulder cannon. Completely stationary, Nils was unable to dodge the blast of paralyzing energy, and froze in his tracks, allowing Vile to clip him again. "Ha! What do you think about that?"

"Cheap shot," Nils grunted, turning and firing more mortars. "Come on. You can do better than that. You used to be with the 1st Unit, right? The best the Maverick Hunters ever put out. This can't be all you've got."

"Shut up!" Vile roared, stunning him again and landing another punch, this time aiming for the gut; Nils' head was too high for the mech's arm to reach. A third round of mortars did the trick before he could repeat the process again, however; groaning, the proud Ride Armor froze, smoking and sparking, before exploding. Swearing, Vile jumped out just in time, landing right before Nils. "My Goliath! You'll pay for..." He trailed off as Nils grabbed his helmet in one massive hand, pulling the other back with his fist clenched. "Oh, this is going to suck."

"Pretty much." Nils agreed before proceeding to methodically bash him into scrap metal. Only when the simulation faded out around him, taking Vile with it, did he stop, waiting a moment with his fist still raised for another punch before standing up and dusting his hands off. "It seems I'm done here."

**"****Simulation ****complete,****"** the computer said. **"****Rank: ****A.****"**

"Not bad!" Nils grinned, then paused. "I think." After a moment, he shrugged and walked back out to join the rest of the team.

* * *

><p>"Damn." Zero cringed as Goat stepped away from the empty air where Vile had been effectively decapitated. "Just damn. Who made him again?"<p>

"He is Swiss in manufacture." Volya uncrossed his arms and nodded. Goat had performed as he'd expected. "They did not believe in leaving him short of tactics."

"He's a living Swiss Army Knife." X muttered. "And the way he was swinging that spiked mace around…" The Azure Hunter blinked twice and rubbed at his eyes, as if trying to dismiss some past memory. "I'd say he wasn't taking it seriously there."

"No, he was serious." Volya assured the two commanders, turning for the Bridge exit door. "Goat simply masks his determination with humor. Send all the recordings to my office, if you would. I would like to review their performances tomorrow with the team."

"Yeah, we can do that." X agreed. "We'll be up here for a while longer, in case you or your boys have any questions."

"Understood."

* * *

><p>Below in the corridor outside of Holoroom 4, the three standing members of Zephyr Team glanced over one another's injuries. Goat had only some scarring on his upper torso, Hawkins had his share of battle damage, and Huey was the worst off, with cracked armor plating and definite wear.<p>

"I would say we all came through with flying colors." Goat observed with a smile. He set his expended bazooka to the side and cracked his knuckles.

"You would think that, Nils, but you would be wrong." Volya's stern voice cut into their victorious moment. The squadmates turned as their commander strolled towards them, his black overcoat flaring around his legs. Volya looked displeased. "Tomorrow, we will examine your performances in detail. For now, though, I want you to know something. Two of you ranked as A class. One of you ranked B. Lu, who is even now being seen to in the Medical Bay, scored a C minus. In my opinion, he should have ranked lower. Your individual performances are varied, and though some were impressive, on the whole, you are a liability."

Foxfire's eyes thinned at the berating evaluation. "Excuse me?"

Volya went on, ignoring the remark. "I wished to see how you operated on your own so I could compare your combat styles. To put you together now and expect you to work in the field cohesively would be to sign your death certificates. You formulate plans without thought, you act without thinking, you lose yourself in the melee. It makes your aim wrong and your arm untrue to the strike. You all became so consumed with this ranking system that these Hunters use that you put out everything else from your mind. Lu, in particular. This isn't a game, gentlemen. The injuries you have sustained here are real, as I had X program them to be so. You must always keep aware of your surroundings, and you must _never_ lose sight of what's important. Your life." Volya pointed a jagged finger at the three. "Your lives are important."

"Yeah, okay." Goat numbly agreed. "I guess I could've…"

"No. No, don't apologize to this clown." Foxfire snapped, having finally taken enough. "What's your problem, Russkie? We got the job done, we did as we were asked. And I don't know how the other two did, but I ranked A. I watched my neck, I bided my time, and I smoked this course. Where do you get off telling me what to do?"

Volya's singular eye darkened as Tomahawk Foxfire rambled on. "You are coming dangerously close to complaining, Hawkins." He offered softly at the end.

"I'm just saying, old man. You think you can do better? Prove it, and maybe I'll listen to you."

"Volya, he's just spouting off. He doesn't mean it." Goat hastily tried to step in.

Volya held a hand up, silencing the Swiss reploid. "The three of you will report to the Bridge. Now." The ice in his voice brooked no retort, and wilting under the cyclopean gaze, Zephyr Team did as they were ordered.

Volya watched them depart, then reached into the weapons locker and withdrew one of the pistols that Lu had been using. He checked the clip, slammed it back home, and loaded the firing chamber.

"You will listen, pup." Volya mumbled, stepping into Room 4.

* * *

><p><em>Bridge<em>

The door hissed open, and X and Zero were stunned to see the three test-takers sidling into the room.

"What the…what are you guys doing here?"

"Volya's orders." Goat explained meekly. "Foxfire went off on him, and he went quiet and angry."

A glimmer of movement caught in Zero's peripheral, and the Crimson Hunter turned as Volya stepped into the fourth holoroom. The Russian glanced up, death in his eye. _"__X,__ have __my __men __arrived __at __the __Bridge?__"_

From the window, X hit the intercom. "They're here, Volya. What are you planning?"

_"__I __intend__ to __prove __a __point.__"_ Volya declared with a growl. _"__And __I __intend __to __have __them__ watch.__"_

"You want me to load up The Meat Grinder again?"

_"__Not __as __it __is.__"_ Volya shook his head. He removed his black coat and threw it out into the corridor behind him. The door hissed shut, closing him off from his favored garment. Now revealed, his warrior's armor finally showed off the black and red of his past, with white trim that only sharpened his edges. The hard, squarish angle of his jaw and the scar running down from his leftside eyepatch jutted out more, demanding attention. _"__It __would __not __do __for __me __to __repeat __a __run__ I__ have __seen __done __four __times. __It __would __ruin __the __test. __Do __you __have __additional __levels __of __difficulty __in __this__…__simulation?__"_

X and Zero warily looked at each other.

"A few." X replied. "Why?"

Volya put in another question of his own, brushing the dust off of his arms. _"__What__ is __the __most __dangerous __level?__"_

"Nightmare." Zero answered. "But that program is limited to Rank SA plus Hunters only."

Volya extended his right arm out and summoned his Buster, shifting his wrist and hand up and out of the way of the menacing bulbous weapon. _"__Load__ the __program.__"_

"Are you sure?" X asked evenly. "That level of difficulty has a much more dangerous potential. If you fail…die…you'll come out of it worse off than Lu."

Volya stared up again, chilling his observers with what went unspoken. He gave X three seconds to regret speaking, then opened his mouth. _"__Load. __The. __Program.__"_

Zero gave his head a shake. "God help you then." Killing the intercom, he looked at X. "I don't even let _my_ guys solo this one. What is he thinking?"

X looked to Goat. "You've worked with Volya before, Nils. You know him better than anyone. What _is_ he thinking?"

Goat made a face. "Honestly, every time he got this mad, I found someplace else to be."

* * *

><p><em>New Tokyo Superhighway Exchange<em>

_June 4th, 2118 C.E._

_Simulation: Nightmare Mode_

The calm of the empty room disappeared, and the nightmarish evening of Reploid Independence Day manifested in the void. Around him, the acrid sting of spent explosives and burning cars wafted from every direction.

Volya flexed the fingers of his left hand, sizing up the pathway ahead of him. Gone were the drones, the Gunbolts, the Crushers. The Road Attackers drove larger vehicles with double mounted plasma turrets, and they fired them more often and more accurately. Below the upraised expressways, New Tokyo burned hotter and brighter, making the concrete underneath his feet blistering to the touch.

Above and ahead of him, the _Death__ Rogumer_ operated with impunity, laying waste to everything in its path. A full squadron, ten Bee Bladers in all, buzzed in the skies to provide support and covering fire.

This was not what had happened; the situation on the highways that night had not been so dire, the Maverick forces had not been so condensed. None of that mattered, for in this altered reality, the consolidated forces under Sigma sought annihilation of all who traveled the roads to evacuate.

The computer started to list off the objectives, but Volya cut it off with a shake of his head. "Begin."

The formerly occupied Mavericks nearest to him reacted to the word, and turned towards him at first notice. Wordlessly, they circled around him, cutting off any route of escape.

Volya reached up to the side of his head with his left hand and blinked. In a flash of light, his trimmed pepper gray hair disappeared under a black helmet with white running stripes and an inverted red control chip heatsink cover. He kept his Buster arm low, and began building up a charge. The whine of the particle condenser was unmistakable, even amidst the screams and explosions.

The closest of the Mavericks, a helmeted and faceless security patroller gone rogue under Sigma's mantle, sneered and approached Volya with his stun baton raised high. "Traitor to your own kind, eh? Any last words before I fry you?"

Volya raised his Buster up, his face a blank. "No." He fired, and the supershot vaporized the entire right side of the Maverick's torso. What was left collapsed in a heap, and the other clustered Mavericks bellowed and charged as one.

Without hesitation or remorse, Volya rotated about, firing one well-placed plasma bullet after another into their chests and faces. Some went down, others staggered backwards before charging again. Volya jumped up as they reached for him, and kicked his dash boots behind him.

The jets ignited, betraying his EAS/DASH system's true functionality: Air-dash. To the surprise and consternation of the survivor of that opening band, Volya hurtled out of their huddle and rolled five meters away. He came to a stop with one knee on the concrete and his Buster pointed at the clustered group. The whine of a charge he'd built during the maneuver reached a keening wail, and he fired off the supershot. The ball of brilliant blue plasma ignited and dispersed, destroying two outright and hurling the others off of the highway altogether. The Mavericks' screams faded as they plummeted to their deaths, and Volya put them out of his mind. He stood back up and turned to face the Rogumer.

Registering the threat, the airship that had been the pride of the Maverick Hunters turned towards him, and flares of light cued its attack.

No smile of satisfaction graced his lips. No quick witticism borne of ego or bravado escaped him. He merely blinked once, then dashed ahead.

Behind him, the highway exploded as a full salvo of plasma rounds and missiles gouged out its surface. The smoldering wreckage fell away, cutting off a retreat. Only one way was left to go. Forward, into the abyss, into death.

Three Bee Bladers moved in all at once, seeking to follow up the mothership's barrage. They settled into position ahead of him, blocking the highway and raising their chainguns and missile port doors.

Volya's left hand went down to his thigh, and he pulled his beam shortblade out, igniting it. He held the potent elongated dagger of green plasma in reverse, thumb on the hilt.

The world wasn't real, but the sounds of the Bee Blader's chainguns, pulsing a staccato deathbeat, were. With three of them bringing their weapons to bear, and much quicker than they had in the simulations of his teammates, it would only be a matter of time before they caught him in the crossfire. Volya considered his options, of which there were few good ones, and selected the most palatable. True, he could have relied on his agility and his dash thrusters to blaze through their convergent fields of fire. He might have taken some glancing hits, he might have not. The risk was there, though, and so he went for a different task.

He blinked…his entire body did. In a blip of light, he vanished just as the first wave of cannon bullets ripped through the air where he'd been, confusing the Bladers. They had little time to wonder where he'd gotten off to before he reappeared between the left and center attackers. Before they could react, Volya jerked his arm about and sliced through the leftmost Blader's rotor mount. Deprived of the weight on it, the rotor screamed up into the air, and the Bee Blader collapsed onto the side of the highway, crushing the guardrail before rolling off to drop to the ground far below.

The center Blader started to rise, sensing the immediate threat. It went straight up, as to not crash into its wingmate, and kept its head down to stay locked on. The more immediate threat was the third Blader, who turned as the second gained altitude, and wildly fired off a stream of missiles that Volya had no chance of neutralizing.

Volya blinked out again, and reappeared after his second short teleport directly in front of the rising Blader. His Buster disappeared out for his hand, and he dashed into it, using the speed to power the punch of his greave-protected fist. His hand tore through its right optical array, and he dug his fingers in deep, gaining a critical handhold. Frantically, the Blader threw itself into a dizzying downwards loop, trying to shake Volya off. The Russian held on like a crocodile and slashed his beam shortblade through the armor plating of its head with one swipe after another. The successive strikes sent smoke and sparks gushing towards him, and the mechaniloid finally started to power down, having taken critical damage. Volya grunted and jerked the disabled Blader about, using his air-dash thrusters to force it into an angle of his choosing…directly for the last of the three.

It retreated away, backpedaling so fast that its main rotor turned to a 45 degree angle and raised its nose towards Volya. Knowing it had nothing more to lose, it opened fire with its chaingun at Volya and his unwelcome delivery. The Muscovite hurled himself away from the Blader as it was chewed apart by cannonfire and freefell towards his attacker. He summoned up his Buster and fired a storm of shots at it, making the Blader give up the attack for a quicker retreat. It still held that same high angle of its rotor, though, and that gave Volya all the room he needed. He would not be sliced to ribbons in the drop, and with one last well-applied burst of synthesized hydrogen from his boot thrusters, he nestled into the small space between the Blader's cumbersome, armored body and its whirling, reinforced rotor. The rotor mount was such a small target that the designers had seen no reason to armor it; it freed up room for additional payload.

Of course, that meant, as with the first one, all it took was one deliberate and well-placed slice of a cutting weapon to rip the wings off of the aerodynamically unsound metallic bee.

Volya jumped back to the side of the highway and pulled himself up as the last of the three Bladers that had accosted him became a low-atmospheric meteorite. He turned his eye towards the _Death__Rogumer_ when he was back on his feet, and wasn't the least bit surprised to see an entire legion of Road Attackers flying for him, guns blazing. There would be no surprising the second group with quickwarps; his warp generator needed time to recharge its capacitors.

Which meant, of course…he was now forced to take on the third line of defense as it was intended. Head-on, with little chance of emerging unscathed. And that was fine. It was like a knife-fight. You always bled in a knife-fight.

The trick was keeping your own cuts shallow.

* * *

><p>Zero blinked. "That was clean."<p>

"Eh? What do you mean?" Huey prodded the foreboding Hunter.

"He's right." X agreed, bringing up a replay of the feverish assault Volya had laid against the Bee Bladers. "There's lots of ways to take down a Blader, but the most direct one is to sever their rotor mounts. Of course, to do that, you've gotta get in close. The rotors and their armor make it impossible for a straight shot, and Bladers never let melee types reach their weak spots."

"Quick warping." Zero crossed his arms, a new fear and respect for the Russian rising up in him. "It doesn't always work, and it takes a lot out of you."

"Uh, remind me again?" Goat tilted his head slightly.

"Teleportation, big fella." Tomahawk Foxfire answered dully. "Not every reploid gets a warp generator, and most aren't advanced enough for the kind of tweaking needed for short hops. He basically traded off his ability to make a quick escape for the tactical advantage."

"And here I thought quickwarps were a myth." Huey sighed.

"Oh, no." Foxfire gave his head a shake. "I've gone up against Mavericks that used it. Quickwarping is real enough. I'm just glad that faintwarping isn't real."

X stifled a small chuckle, and Hawkins looked at him. "Something funny?"

"No." The Azure Hunter carefully corrected himself. He canceled the replay and pulled up the run, with Volya swarmed by Road Attackers from all sides. "There's nothing funny at all about this."

"He won't survive this." Hawkins muttered. "I don't care how many tricks he's got, you said it yourself, Zero. Nobody can solo this one."

"Nobody's tried." Zero shook his head. "Big difference."

* * *

><p>The Road Attackers had been heavily modified in the nightmare simulation: It wasn't just a matter of their improved armament, their armor was thicker as well. A fully charged supershot melted off the front fender of a vehicle trying to run him over, but he still had to dodge out of the way. There would be no rapid kills, and worse, when he tried to slash its tires, a hiss of electricity snaked its way up the blade from the hubcap. Volya gnashed his teeth and extinguished the blade.<p>

"Electrified." He muttered, shoving the beam shortblade back into its hip sheath. That was all he could get out before a double burst of plasma sent him tumbling away, and only a quick leap upwards spared him the grisly fate of being turned into roadkill. They were swarming him, keeping him totally on the defensive.

A lucky shot against the back of his helmet finally sent him over the edge. "Enough, then." He snarled, jumping up into the air. His dash boots exploded with power, pushing him straight up and out of reach of the Road Attacker's weapons. Most importantly, the altitude bought him time.

Volya's Buster began to glow as he started a rapid charge. The motes of light around it went from green in its initial collection, to yellow…

And then, frighteningly, to a holocaust purple. It came none too soon, for his dash thrusters finally gave out after a push that had exhausted the bulk of his stored synthesized hydrogen. Sixty meters below, the Road Attackers lined up on the slab of highway he was falling towards, readying their cannons to catch him in a terminal crossfire.

Volya pointed his Buster straight down, gave it two more beats of charging time until his weapons capacitors began to reach critical, and fired. The blast wave hurled him backwards, and the shot, a drilling beam of turquoise light with three violet spheres twisting around it in a tight helix, screamed down for the highway below.

Initial impact drilled a hole two and a half meters wide clean through the highway, causing the entire platform to shudder. The real damage came shortly after; the trio of plasma balls detached from the main shot, scattered away in opposite directions, and after bouncing twice, exploded in heat, light, and a concussive pressure wave.

The concrete slab of highway cracked under the strain, the rebar within it doing nothing to prevent its fate. The weight of the massed Road Attackers finished what Volya had started, and the road crumbled underneath them, splitting apart and dropping at the middle and drawing every last Maverick rider towards the abyss. Frantically, those on the edges tried to drive away. It did them little good, and the smell of burned rubber drifted up towards Volya as they skidded backwards. Vehicles, Mavericks, and shards of concrete all rained down.

Amidst the screams, Volya triggered one last dash and hurled himself over the pit of his own making. He landed hard on the Rogumer side of the road and tumbled to lessen the impact.

A thin line of smoke curled up from his Buster's nozzle, and Volya let the end of it cool before he rose up to his feet. The park that served as the battleground against Vile was just ahead now, past an obstacle course of sentry drones perched precariously over dilapidated roadway. The Rogumer held position above the park, and turned its guns towards the leader of Zephyr Team.

Volya smiled, and pulled out his beam shortblade again. "I'd hate to think you would make this easy."

The _Death__ Rogumer_ fired, and Volya ran.

* * *

><p>"Well, shit." Hawkins muttered.<p>

"Don't tell me you're disappointed?" Goat nudged his new teammate. The vulpinoid took the poke as well as he could, sulking. "I told you, Volya's good."

"Sure as Hell looks like it." Huey whistled appreciatively. "This guy's terrific. Gruff as Hell, but…damn. Izzat why he's our commander?"

"No." X answered, for the curious. "He's been online since 2120; that makes him, with the exception of Lu, the longest-lived reploid on your team. His career, according to the Russian Federation's records, has been "Distinguished." At least, that's what they told the GDC."

"And that makes him qualified to lead a team of Maverick Hunters?" Hawkins demanded, refusing to let go of the bone he was chewing on. "His age?"

"No." Zero gave his head a shake. "We don't go by tenure here. We go by ability."

"You had a clean run yourself, right until the end." X tried to calm Tomahawk Foxfire down. "From what Goat tells me, the only reason Volya is down there is to prove a point to _you_." X offered a very disappointed gaze. "Seems the least you could do is pay attention."

"And stop complaining." Goat added.

Still fidgeting, Hawkins stepped up to the window overlooking Holoroom 4 and stared down.

"Come on then." He whispered against the pane. "Show me something."

* * *

><p>Compared to a mob of unruly Mavericks, a simultaneous assault by armored Polycraft, and a ground ambush by Road Attackers, the gauntlet of collapsed roads and wasp-like stinger drones was almost too easy. Each section of the run was dedicated to a different focus: This last one before the showdown was one of agility, response time, and level-headedness. Volya hesitated when he had to, avoiding that one fatal misstep that would cause a drone to crash into him and send him on the final plunge. In spite of his imperfect vision, the grizzled warrior rushed forward without hesitation. Drones were shot out of the sky by his Buster, and the ones that came too close for comfort were sliced apart by his saber. Perhaps his other sensory systems had been improved by the loss of an eye, because he seemed untouchable to distraction.<p>

And that was all that the rushing drones were: A distraction. Sacrifices to slow Volya down so the looming dreadnaught above the park could fire one earth-shaking blast after another on top of him. The shriek of the plasma rounds burning through the air was enough of a giveaway: He dodged, dashed, and tumbled clear before impact each time. His refusal to be struck had to be frustrating to the ship's gunners, who succeeded only in blasting apart a highway already on its last legs.

No goading taunt, no self-satisfying boast left him. Lips closed tight, Volya kept pressing ahead. In desperation, the _Death__ Rogumer_ fired at a section of highway well ahead of him, just prior to the turnoff into the park. Volya held his fire and started to charge his Buster again, making a mad dash for it.

The stricken highway ahead of him started to collapse from the mortal blow, and Volya's first foothold fell out from underneath him.

_"__Niechevo!__"_ Volya swore. Refusing to give in, he leapt from one falling piece of concrete to another, steadily crossing the gap and regaining lost altitude. He kicked off of concrete and reinforced bars, and with one final boost of his dash thrusters, flew up and landed on solid ground. He dropped down with his left hand and the hilt of his beam shortblade pressed flat against the roadway in a perfect three point stance.

The aura around his Buster turned purple again, and Volya stood and aimed his right arm in one smooth gesture. The penetrating beam warped and burned the side of the lingering airship, and the three plasma spheres exploded with even more damage.

The _Death__ Rogumer_ rocked under the assault, with smoking holes exposed after the light died down. The Rogumer limped away, but not before its cargo doors opened and Vile dropped out from the lift. But he wasn't driving a Chimera, Volya realized. This time, he was in a hovercapable, spike-fisted Rabbit.

Behind his oddly slotted visor, Vile's eyes flared a brilliant red. Volya stowed his shortblade and nodded back.

"What the _Hell_ do you think you're doing?" Vile hissed.

"Getting your attention." Volya answered, raising his Buster up to fire again.

A sudden gale force wind blew Volya off his feet and smashed him into the ground. When it died, Volya scrambled and looked behind him.

A livid blue and purple eagle reploid kept his wind-generating Buster trained on Volya, hovering overhead. "You have it, Maverick Hunter." Storm Eagle declared.

A loud, rumbling thud by Vile caused Volya to turn again. This time, a primate-based reploid stood up after his jump down from the wounded airship. It slammed its fists together, and electricity sparked off from the brief contact.

"All of it." Spark Mandrill growled.

Volya gave his head a disbelieving shake at his situation, and started to charge up another supershot.

* * *

><p>"Oh, shit." Goat whispered. Huey recoiled, and even Hawkins made a face.<p>

"You put him up against three of the Maverick generals? Is that even based in reality?" Hawkins asked.

"Little known fact." Zero grunted. "Storm Eagle was driving the Rogumer that night, and Spark Mandrill was in the cargo bay, prepping drones and Road Attackers. They didn't come out to play when X attacked."

"Thank Christ." X muttered, rolling his eyes.

"We found that out later when we reviewed the data from the _Death__Rogumer__'__s_ black box; it was about the only thing that survived the crash into the old nuclear fission power plant. So, did it really happen? No. But it could have." Zero allowed himself a satisfied smile. "Now you know why this is Nightmare Mode."

"And why you don't let your Special Unit 0 do solo runs." Goat accused him.

"Hey, I warned him." Zero protested. "Hell, X warned him. It's not my problem if that lunk-headed Russian doesn't want to listen to common sense. Besides, it isn't impossible."

"Why? Because you could do it?" Hawkins asked.

"Yeah." Zero snorted.

Of course, it went without saying that Commander Volya wasn't Zero. And there was the rub. There was little else to do except wait and hope that the Muscovite ended the simulation before the Mavericks used him as a football.

* * *

><p>"I don't think I've ever seen you before, Hunter." Storm Eagle remarked, hurling another hurricane strength tornado down at Volya. "You must be new."<p>

Volya jumped out of the way, only to be electrocuted by a thunderball that slid across the ground and up through his foot.

"They must be getting desperate." Spark Mandrill taunted him. "They're hiring cripples now? Poor bastard can't even see right."

"Be careful, you moron." Vile snarled at the ape. "That poor bastard just took out our entire highway suppression force. Don't go underestimating him."

Grunting, Volya fought off the last wave of paralyzing shorts and shook his head. "All right." He pointed to Mandrill. "You die first."

"Oh ho, look at the little man, making declarations." Mandrill grinned, stretching his blue-striped cheeks. "Come on. Let's kill him and get out of here. The boss wants us at the ready."

"Hm." Volya kept them talking, slowing the charge rate of his Buster as to not attract attention. "I see. You all get to run around and cause havoc and mayhem, while Sigma gets to rest on Hokkaido Island and build his little fortress. Is that it?"

Storm Eagle screeched, eyes wide. "How do you know that?" He glanced to Vile. "How in the devil's name does he _know__that?_ Have the Hunters penetrated our communications already?"

"Bullshit." Vile scoffed. "Mandrill programmed our encryptions himself. Ain't no way that Hunter Base is capable of breaking it, especially since we kicked the shit out of that place before we left."

"Perhaps your little revolution is not as secure as you thought." Volya wagered. "Have you given thought that perhaps we have an agent amongst you?"

Mandrill's eyes narrowed. "Impossible. Everybody in this Uprising is committed to Lord Sigma's vision of a world where reploids rule our subjugators."

Volya shrugged, raising his Buster and right arm up into the air. "Ah, well. It was worth a try." Before Mandrill could react, he snapped his weapon to bear and fired a level 3 blue supershot. Howling, Mandrill tried to fall clear of the blast, but the edge of it caught on his torso and burned away his outer layer of abdominal armor.

Storm Eagle hurled down another tornadic blast, tossing Volya around in punishment. "Bad show, going for a sneak attack like that!"

"Ah, I forgot only _Mavericks_ can shoot people in back." Volya picked himself back up again, and tensed up. The ground was vibrating underneath him.

He dashed backwards, narrowly avoiding being skewered on the spiked fist of Vile's Ride Armor. The Rabbit blazed past and skidded sideways to begin its turnaround. "Damnit, you moved!"

A crackling hiss got Volya's attention, and he jumped upwards to avoid another sphere of electroplasma sent out by Spark Mandrill. The simioid let out an angry set of hoots and pulled his fist up from the ground. "He's quick, I'll give him that."

Airborne, Volya turned to address the next threat, and was abruptly slammed back down to terra firma by another punishing cyclone from Storm Eagle. Spark Mandrill was on top of him before he could pull himself back up, and the Maverick squeezed Volya hard between his hamfists.

Arms pinned to his sides, Volya could only grunt and cringe when Spark Mandrill sent a painful current through his body. The simioid bared his teeth, clearly ready for vengeance after his injury. "You don't understand the righteousness of our Lord Sigma's cause. Well, if you won't help, then you may as well die."

"Not on my list." Volya snapped in return. Spark Mandrill squeezed him harder, and Volya hissed when he felt his armor begin to crack under the strain.

Mandrill allowed himself a few more enjoyable seconds, then hurled Volya out like a rag doll at Vile. The helmeted Maverick swung his spiked fist forward and smashed Volya at center mass. The Russian coughed up a copious mouthful of purple blood and crumpled to the ground after rolling to a stop.

The thudding footsteps of Vile came closer, while Storm Eagle and Spark Mandrill remained stationary.

"End of the line, Maverick Hunter." Vile sneered. His Rabbit lifted its foot up into the air and positioned it over Volya's body. "Thanks for playing."

Volya tilted his head up, looking at Vile with his pain-glazed brown eye. In spite of his injuries, he smiled.

Vile smashed the foot of his enhanced 'Mech down, putting cracks into the concrete underneath. But Volya was not lying there.

A sudden pained cry from Spark Mandrill pulled Vile from his state of confusion. He and Storm Eagle turned in time to see Volya, crouched behind the simioid, digging his green beam shortblade up deeper through the weakened section of Mandrill's armor into the Maverick's body.

Paralyzed in pain, his spinal connection severed to his legs, Spark Mandrill feebly tried to grasp behind him to pull Volya away. The Russian dug his blade in deeper, finally locating his target.

"Do you know what happens to reploid that loses microfusion containment?" Volya asked aloud.

"You…ba..stard…" Mandrill wheezed. Volya's right arm reached up and touched Mandrill's fist, and the white lines of his armor glowed brilliantly. He shoved his blade in all the way, and a very loud alarm screamed from inside of the Maverick.

Volya quickwarped clear of Mandrill just before the damaged microfusion generator of the simioid went into overload and blew him apart.

Aghast at the fate of their comrade, Vile and Storm Eagle tried to collect their bearings.

And Volya warped down behind them, calmly wiping the purple blood off of his lips as he drained his Sub-Tank and pulled himself back to full health. They turned, and Volya pointed to Storm Eagle. _"__Ty __umresh__ '__vtorym.__"_

** You die second.**

* * *

><p>"Bastard!" Storm Eagle howled, hurling another tornado. Volya dashed out of its path, and none too soon: A horrific gash was cut into the ground where the howling winds scraped it. Volya came up, whirling clear of another dash punch from Vile.<p>

"Adding plasma to your tornadoes, Storm?" Vile posed. "It's about time you started getting serious."

"How the devil was I supposed to know that he could disappear like Boomer?" Storm snapped back.

A witticism came to mind, and Volya broke with his pattern of stoic composure to let it loose. "We can stop if you two need time to sort things out." Of course, he neglected to mention that Boomer—likely Boomer Kuwanger, another Maverick General in the First Uprising—had a different means of instantaneous transport altogether, but he wasn't about to clue them into it. Holographs or not, an advantage was an advantage, and a thing that was named could be countered.

"You know what?" Vile turned his Rabbit 'Mech to face Volya. "I'd thought that I'd christen this beauty of mine by bleeding X dry over its fists, but you just got put up at the top of my hit list. Storm!"

The Rabbit Ride Armor crouched down and pulled its arms in tight. After locking into place, the drills on the ends of its arms began to spin, slowly at first, then gaining RPMs rapidly thereafter.

Volya ignored the delayed threat and aimed upwards. Sure enough, Storm Eagle was diving straight for him. The white lines along Volya's Buster glowed for a moment, and a ball of electroplasma exploded out of it. Storm was flying too fast and too straight to avoid the shot, and the crackling energy paralyzed the avian reploid long enough so that he crashed into the ground at maximum velocity.

Groaning, Storm shakily tried to push himself off of terra firma. Volya calmly waited, not moving to finish Storm off. "You were never grounded, were you?" The double entendre was meant to infuriate Storm Eagle, and it worked perfectly.

"You son of a bitch." Storm rasped.

The sound of a charging warmachine, the noise that Volya had been listening for instead of moving for the quick kill, cut their conversation short. "Excuse me." Volya dashed backwards, and Vile's clumsy charge failed to connect. Bleeding off speed, Vile and his Ride Armor shot past Volya with plenty of room to spare.

That moment of distraction, tracking Vile's course, cost him. In a flash, Storm Eagle had crashed into Volya and snatched him up in his claws. Wings beating furiously, the Maverick hoisted the Maverick Hunter high into the air, talons pinning Volya's arms outwards. Storm took his prey higher and higher into the burning night sky.

"There's no escaping your fate now." Storm told Volya. "When I drop you from this height, you will crack like an egg!"

"Perhaps." Volya tried to look up at his attacker. "Perhaps not." He disengaged his Buster, bringing his right hand back out into play.

"Your quiet confidence and surprise warps will not save you from me. I am not the fool that Spark Mandrill was!" Storm Eagle crowed.

"No." Volya rocked his legs back and forth, getting a feel for his mobility. "You are a different fool."

Fifteen hundred feet up, Volya swung his feet perpendicular to his torso and activated his thrusters. The sudden jolt of force caused Storm Eagle's grip to loosen, and Volya grunted in approval. A second burst of dash thrust caused Storm to lose control of him altogether, which would have suited the Maverick's intentions anyhow. The difference was that Volya had initiated his release and drop…

Which gave him enough reaction time to grab hold of Storm Eagle's ankles and swing himself up behind the bird. With the same speed he'd used to surprise Lu, Volya drew out his beam shortblade and jerked the condensed green plasma clean through both of the avian reploid's wings. Storm Eagle howled in agony as his primary means of attack and escape were clipped off of him. The wings fell away first, while Storm Eagle and Volya, with two moments of upwards momentum remaining, kept going.

It gave Volya enough time to sheathe his blade and turn the crippled Maverick around. He stared at Storm with his brown eye, lit up from the fires burning beneath them, and smiled.

"See you on the ground."

Volya kicked away from Storm Eagle and began his freefall.

* * *

><p>Below, Vile could only wait for some sign of life, a flicker of lights or a spot of motion in the skies above him. When it finally came, he expected the Maverick Hunter to smash into the ground and be crushed, while Storm Eagle flew down and landed after him.<p>

To his dismay, the reverse happened. Falling at terminal velocity, the red, black, and white armored Maverick Hunter rapidly slowed on a bellowing gust of full out dash thruster burn. It cut out when he was ten meters up, and he freefell the rest of the way, coming to rest in a crouch with his Buster at the ready and glowing a violent violet.

Storm Eagle, screaming, crashed behind him, exploding half a second after impact in white hot fire. The Maverick's wings twirled down a moment later.

Aghast, Vile tried to speak. He could only make out a stammering, "What…you…he…but…"

Volya rose up, looking supernal in spite of the cracks in his armor. He pointed at Vile with his left hand. "You are last."

"Oh, the Hell you say." Vile snarled. He gunned the Ride Armor's engine and leapt out of the cockpit before the Rabbit barreled for Volya on a collision course. With his dash thrusters at empty after his rapid descent's stop, Volya aimed his Buster and fired; not a plasma charge, but a wave of electroplasma, borrowed from the weapons system of the defeated Spark Mandrill. It washed over the Rabbit with more potency than the basic sphere, and fried every circuit in the Ride Armor's controls. Volya threw himself clear, narrowly avoiding being clipped by it as it lurched over and veered off, toppling sideways in defeat.

The heap of ominous metal sparked twice more, then went silent. Volya drew out his beam shortblade, then rose to look around again. Before he could react, he found himself hoisted up and squeezed tight by an enormous fist. As Volya gasped, Vile seethed inside the cockpit of his Chimera Mech…the original model of the simulation, with hands instead of spiked drills.

"You didn't think I wouldn't have backup?" Vile sneered. "I guess in the end, all that Rabbit was good for was to make you waste your shot."

Gritting his teeth, Volya brought his Buster up and started to fire a wild flurry of shots at the bubble-shielded cockpit. The Chimera's other arm swung up and wrapped around Volya's right arm with crushing force, lifting it skyward where the shots could do no harm. Screaming, Volya stabbed forward with his shortblade, burning a hole through the canopy before Vile reacted and moved Volya back away from the cockpit. The green plasma shortblade fell short of the mark, failing to reach Vile's head.

The Maverick laughed wildly at Volya's predicament. "Whassa matter, you run out of sword? Too bad you didn't spring for the full model, like Sigma! Hell, you even tried to do his scar motif and failed. To think, you killed Spark Mandrill, you took out Storm Eagle, and you fail here because you ran out of weapons. It really is too bad. Yes, you had a good run, but you're just not up to taking me out, are you slugger?"

Volya gave the simulated Vile a hard look. He finally released the cylinder of his beam shortblade and let it fall away, extinguishing once his thumb was clear of the activation stud. The slender rod of metal made two distinctive _clinks_ when it landed on the ground.

Vile popped his canopy open and leaned forward, putting his helmet inches away from Volya's empty left hand. The cannon on his shoulder tilted down and took aim at Volya's face. "Any last words before I send you to the scrap heap?"

"Two words." Volya offered, inscrutable behind the eyepatch and scar along the left side of his face. "If you care to hear them."

"Oh, sure. Why not?" Vile laughed darkly. "Let me guess. I'm sorry? I tried? Please don't? Oh God?"

Volya shook his head, and a glimmer of light settled over his left hand. Before Vile could even register it, a magpistol…Lu's magpistol, which Volya had kept in storage inside his warp generator for the whole of the simulation without using, settled into his grip.

The corner of Volya's mouth twitched. "You lose." He fired, point blank, into the slotted gap of visor in Vile's full helmet. The magnetically accelerated round blasted out the back of Vile's head, taking his control chip and electronic brain along with it.

The simulation froze, then pixilated and disappeared. Without the construct of a Chimera Mech to hold him up, Volya dropped to the ground without ceremony. He dismissed his Buster, then reached down and picked up his discarded beam shortblade.

**"****Simulation ****complete. ****Rank:**** SA.****"**

Volya was already walking out the door and reaching for his coat before the holographic center's operating system had finished speaking.

* * *

><p>Nobody in the Bridge spoke after that stunning conclusion. The members of Zephyr Team stood there, mutely, until the entry door hissed open and Volya stormed in, thunder rumbling behind his eye. The reploid calmly tapped the side of his helmet, and it disappeared in a flash of warplight to expose his familiar short-trimmed haircut.<p>

"Hawkins." Volya said.

The vulpinoid held off his cringe. "Yes, Commander?"

Volya held his stiff posture for a few moments more, then relaxed. "Go to the Medical Bay, and take the others with you. I will be along shortly."

Hawkins blinked. "Wait, you're not going to kill me?"

"Do you wish me to?" Volya countered sharply.

Goat grabbed Hawkins by the shoulder and tugged the Maverick Hunter out behind him. "No, he sure doesn't Commander. We'll see you in a bit."

Huey lingered behind the other two for a moment more, grinning at Volya. "That was some stone cold footwork, my man. Where the Hell did they dig you out of?"

"Siberia." Volya replied. He pushed Morgan out of the door, and the pilot reluctantly departed. Alone, the Muscovite looked to X and Zero, who seemed ready to burst.

"That was something." X volunteered. "You have weapons copy and buster overcharge ability?"

Volya shrugged within his black coat. "As do you, from what I am told."

X frowned. "Who told you that?"

Volya cracked a wan smile. "Surely, you are not so naïve. You, who argued for the existence of our species…you think that the powers of the world would not keep a file on you?"

X scowled at the news. "So what does your file say?"

"It depends on who is reading it." Volya answered evasively. "To answer your question, I have _limited_ weapons copy." He held up two fingers. "And then, only for temporary periods of time. It is…bonus. Not something I rely on." Volya glanced to Zero. "Nightmare Mode…is good challenge. Your simulation Mavericks, though, they talk too much."

"Well, that bunch was pretty chatty." Zero pointed out.

Volya blinked his eye. "In a real fight, there are no words. Only death."

"Oh yeah?" Zero demanded. "We've seen more scrapes than you know, and they always talk."

"Perhaps it is madness, then, why they talk." Volya conceded, turning to leave. "Perhaps you are all mad."

Volya departed the bridge, and X turned to Zero with a scowl. "That asshole. Who does he think he is?"

Zero scratched at his chin. "He's a Rank SA Hunter. I'd take him in my unit, if he wasn't GDC. Attitude comes with the rank, though."

"I don't trust him, Zero."

"Good. Neither do I." Zero tapped the hilt of his beam saber over his shoulder. "Doesn't mean I won't spar with him if we found the time."

* * *

><p><em>MHHQ Medical Bay<em>

_2:56 P.M._

Some time later, the reploids of Zephyr Team lay in the Medical Bay under the care of the MHHQ's Chief Medical Officer, a gray-haired and tired looking reploid who lacked true legs and instead was forced to roll around on a base of motorized treads, much like an iconic robot from a very old film. In the hour and a half since they'd been in there, he'd only complained once about it; mostly to say that Cain owed him a pair. Of course, that wasn't the only thing on his list of complaints.

"Your first day on the job and you all decided it was a good idea to get beat to Hell." Hazil complained. "With no frigging respect for _my_ nerves. You don't think I've got better things to do than patch up a bunch of GDC reploids? Like sleep, maybe?"

Goat, who had been given a berth on the largest reinforced bed in primary treatment, sat in the middle of it and shifted his weight slowly. His shoulder cannon was aimed upwards and powered down. "Well, I just had some scuffing."

"Lah dee dah." Hazil twirled a finger in the air. He rolled over and checked Goat's chart again. "Christ on a shingle, boy. Eight Heart Tank IOE expansions and four Subs? What kind of trouble were you expecting?"

"I wasn't quite sure. However, they let me keep my standard equipment."

A little disgusted, Hazil dropped Goat's chart back down. "Right, and that's standard. I weep for your economy." He glanced past the technicians repairing the armor of Huey and Tomahawk Foxfire, over to Commander Volya. The leader of Zephyr Team had folded his black longcoat out over the operating bed he'd been assigned to, and to the dismay of the staff, was performing his own repairs. He'd removed his chest armor and set it down in front of him, poring over the damage with the Medical Bay's own tools. With his armor discharged from him, the Russian reploid looked almost human in a set of military fatigue pants and a long-sleeved black shirt.

"You sure you don't want my people to fix your armor up, son?" Hazil called out to Volya. "They _do_ do this for a living, after all."

"The damage was minimal, and I must practice my field repairs." Volya replied. He pulled his microwelder away from the crack he'd been working on and blinked. "After all, one does not always have the benefit of a doctor."

Hazil rolled his eyes and tossed his hands in the air. "Suit yourself."

The medical technicians around Hawkins finally pulled back, their work done. The vulpinoid sat up slowly, extending his right arm out and flexing his claws. The work they'd done was exemplary. "How's Lu doing?" He asked quietly.

For what was the tenth time or so, Hazil glanced over to Lu's body. The damage was so severe that he hadn't even been able to begin repairs: The Chinese reploid's systems had to stabilize, so what was left of Lu was plugged into a recharging port with a monitor attached to the I/O port in the side of his neck.

"Not good." Hazil admitted. "He was ancient before you were activated, Volya. I swear, the Chinese put him together with chewing gum and twine in places. It'll be days before he's steady enough for repairs. Right now, he's not even handling stasis right. He might not make it."

"Why didn't he stop?" Goat shook his head. "I mean, the guy got half his face blown off. He was getting pieces of him torn off, and he just…"

"Kept going." Hawkins muttered, looking up at the ceiling again. "Like it didn't matter. Like he didn't care."

"Well, you know what they say. If you're dead on the inside, the rest is just details and timing. Hey, that reminds me! You guys wanna know the secret to a great joke?"

"This isn't a jo…"

"Timing!" Huey giggled at his own joke as Nils swelled.

"It's not a joke." Goat reprimanded the pilot. "He's our teammate."

"Enough, Goat." Volya calmed the giant. "Morgan, just focus on your own repairs."

"Repairs?" Huey glanced at his charred chassis. "Holy shit! Guys, I think someone might have shot me. I'd better take a look at that. We can discuss comedy later."

"Right." The space around Volya's eyepatch twitched. "Do that."

Goat breathed out slowly. "I just wish I knew what Lu was thinking."

The door to the Medical Bay opened as Goat was speaking, and the Swiss reploid turned and went pale as Lu walked into the room.

Doing a double take, the entire Medical Bay glanced between the half-dead reploid on the operating table and the standing Lu who strolled in without a care. The new Lu looked exactly like the old one, outside of having marginally thicker armor and no Chinese calligraphy marking his arms. The phrase TEST-0001 was still marked across his chestplate.

"What in God's green earth…" Hazil uttered.

Volya stepped away from his armor repair and blocked the second Lu's path to the first. "Who are you?"

The second Lu paused and glanced at Volya in confusion. "Lu, Commander Volya. Lu, as of the last emergency backup mid-simulation."

He strolled around the stunned Volya and took up position at his own bedside. "The first unit took critical damage in the exercise."

"Wait." Volya put a hand on the second Lu's shoulder and turned him around. He stared hard into the reploid's face. "Explain. First unit?"

"The People's Republic of China decided to build a series of bodies; in this way, multiple exercises could be run with very little downtime for repairs or alteration. Critical damage of unit 1 triggered auto-backup; Unit 1's memories were transferred to home server for re-upload to this unit."

"You're telling us there's hundreds of you…Lus…running around in China?" Goat winced.

The second Lu blinked. "Correct. Other units are fulfilling tasks of lesser importance. This unit will replace unit 1 as Hunter within Zephyr Team. This unit, however, lacks the specialized data of unit 1, and is here to download missing files."

"What missing files?"

"Feelings. Motivations." The second Lu offered. "His rationale for decisions, very important data." He snaked out an I/O jack and tapped into the secondary port of his predecessor. After a few seconds, Lu blinked and pulled the cord away. "Download complete."

"Terrific. Then perhaps you could tell us why you…your…" Hawkins struggled for the right phrasing and tossed his hands in the air. "Why in blazes did you keep going? Why did you let yourself get hit?"

"Survival was not primary objective." Lu answered simply. "This unit was designed to run simulations to determine efficacy of combat tactics and weaponry. Carrying the Meat Grinder simulation to its conclusion was priority task. If built for a purpose, one should fulfill it."

"No." Volya shook the standing Lu hard, baring his teeth. "You will disregard that purpose. You are no longer expendable."

Lu blinked twice. "But duplicate forms ensure that…"

"Negative." Volya scowled, cutting him off. "You will sever your connection with the home server. You will send no more backups of your thought matrices."

Lu's eyes shot up, a powerful expression from the eerily emotionless reploid. "You wish me to be…singular?"

"Yes." Volya snapped. "Look around you. Do you think any of the others here can operate so freely with their lives? I will not have anyone in my command playing fast and loose. You are _not_ expendable. You will _not_ treat our missions as tests or simulations. What we do is life and death."

Lu remained unconvinced. "Is this an order?"

"Do it, or return to China." Volya warned him.

A tense moment passed, and Lu blinked. "Done. Communications to home are severed."

Volya returned to his own bed, shaking his head. "You're going to be nothing but a headache, Lu."

Hazil remained unsure. "So…We've got a new Lu now? What the Hell am I supposed to do with the old one?"

The second Lu glanced to his predecessor. "Scans indicate critical systems damage. Recommendation: Salvage components for repairs and discard the rest."

"Good lord, and I thought I'd seen it all." Hazil ran a hand through his hair. "You want me to _kill__him?__"_

"The conditions specified were not conducive to his survival, Commander." Lu answered.

"Of course, now that you're on your own like the rest of us, I'm betting you won't be so quick to just stand there and let yourself get hit now, will you fella?" Huey asked.

Numbly, Hazil reached for the life support equipment trying to stabilize the first Lu's dying body. "All of you, shut up before I put you into stasis myself." He flipped the switch.

Five seconds later, the monitor on the first Lu's positronic brain activity flatlined.

* * *

><p><em>The Last Round<em>

_MHHQ Central Building_

_7:03 P.M._

Having been admitted, repaired, and released in the span of 6 hours, Huey, Hawkins, and Goat had all been feeling out of sorts. The defeat, demise, and subsequent revival of their Chinese teammate had left them all sifting through their own runs, seeking out weaknesses. Though nobody spoke of it, every one of them could hear Volya's sharp criticisms on their performance. Goat had remembered Commander X mentioning the MHHQ's private pub, and once he'd mentioned it to Huey and Hawkins, both the former MSWAT and regional Hunter had agreed they could use a glass of the good stuff after the day they'd had. After de-arming, which took the longest for Goat due to the long process of detaching his shoulder cannon, they made their way to _The__Last__Round_.

Thus they found themselves sitting at a table perched by the western wall of the bar, nursing their drinks: a double shot of bourbon for Hawkins, a combination of sake and beer for the armor-recalled Huey, and for Goat, an enormous five-liter stein of German lager. Goat chugged it, pints at a time, causing Huey to stare at the diminishing reservoir of alcohol with fascination.

"Where does it all go?" The MSWAT pilot wondered aloud. Goat wiped a thick line of froth from his lips and grinned at his counterpart, again marveling at how their unbalanced teammate looked in white undershirt, Hawaiian shirt, and khaki shorts.

"Something I've always wondered." Hawkins cut in, lifting his own drink and staring into the amber liquid. "Why give reploids the ability to ingest food and drink? Or taste it?"

"If you want a discussion on philosophy, I would be of little help." Goat admitted. "I never bothered to ask the question myself. I just enjoy it. There was a fellow in my old unit who used to do this with Hawaiian fruit drinks. You know, the kind they make with a coconut that looks like a monkey's head? Of course, he used a straw."

Huey whistled, trying to draw a comparison of the drinking contests between Goat's stein and a drink of similar proportion. "Musta been one Hell of a coconut."

Hawkins sipped at his bourbon, then glanced pointedly at Goat. "So tell us, Nils. You've worked with Volya before. Has he always been like this?"

"Like what?" The gentle giant asked, puzzled.

"So damn strict." Hawkins retorted. "If he were any more tense, he'd be pissing piano wire."

"He'd be what?" Goat repeated, missing the meaning behind the odd phrase.

"He was leaping down our throats today. And then he turns around and…" The vulpinoid cringed. "…that run of his, just, was something else. I got the point. He's capable. But why is he so stiff?"

"Because he has been put in charge, and he takes that responsibility seriously." Goat downed two more swallows of beer and set his nearly empty super-flagon down on the table. "Has he always been so strict? To be honest, yes, a little. But I would want nobody else protecting me when a battle started. I trust him. The more important question might be, why don't _you_ trust him?"

"I don't trust anyone." Tomahawk Foxfire muttered, averting his eyes. "Least of all, the people in charge."

"Well, that's awfully cynical, isn't it?" Huey scoffed. "How come I can't be that cynical?"

"I don't know, why aren't you?" Hawkins sniped back at the pilot. Morgan blinked at the comeback, blinked again, and screwed his face into a puzzled expression.

"Why aren't I what again?" Hawkins and Goat both slumped forward a little bit, shaking off the disbelief from Huey's flaky attention span.

A group of Hunters had begun to saunter towards their table as Goat spoke, and the unpredictable Huey cleared his throat. "Uh, fellas, we've got company."

Among the four menacing looking reploids, none garnered as much attention as their leader, a metal-gray and red reploid that seemed a cross between a dragon and a human. His jaws snapped ominously as he sized the three Zephyr teammates up.

"So you're the GDC reploids everybody's been talking about." He sneered.

"I thought we were Hunters now." Huey whispered to the others. The dragon-class reploid still heard him.

"You're not Hunters, you're a social experiment!"

"Oh. Well, as long as we've got that cleared up." Huey shrugged, strangely taking no offense to the brushoff.

"I don't believe I know you, sir." Goat said evenly. The massive reploid straightened up, nearly matching the dragonoid's level gaze. If his counterpart was intimidated, he didn't show it.

"Magma Dragoon, Commander of the 14th Special Unit." The dragonoid declared proudly. "Now, maybe you'd do us all a favor and leave. This bar is for Hunters only."

Tomahawk Foxfire almost jumped out of his seat at the insult, but Goat's strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Steady." Nils muttered to him. The walking demolitions team stood up, dwarfing Dragoon by a good six inches. He smiled and held his arms out away from his sides. "Despite what you think, we _are_ Maverick Hunters, sir. I'll tell you what. How about we head up to the bar and get a round from Pugs? On me?"

Dragoon considered the offer for a moment, then swung his arm down at the table and knocked Goat's enormous stein over. A torrent of alcohol rushed over Goat's front, with a small spray even reaching up to his face.

The conversations within _The __Last__ Round_ came to a stuttering halt, and the music died off as well with the artificial sound of a needle scratching a fleeing record. In silence, all eyes turned to watch the confrontation.

Dragoon snarled again. "I've got a better idea, big fella. Why don't you go fragment yourself?"

Slowly, Nils reached a hand up and brushed the droplets of beer off of his face. He pulled his hand back and examined it. "If I did not know better, I would swear you were trying to pick a fight." He observed.

"Well, what do you know, boys." Magma Dragoon gestured to the three Hunters who were tagging along behind him. "Not as dumb as he looks. And I thought big and stupid went hand in hand!"

Remembering X's warning, Nils glanced to the bar. Pugs, the beefy canine reploid in charge of the room, folded his arms and glowered in warning.

Taking in a deep breath, Goat kept his hands open and shook his head. "It has been a long and trying day. Since you have no desire to be civil, I must ask you to leave."

"You leave!" Dragoon snapped back. "We don't want you here, you GDC flunkie. Get off our base."

"No." Goat replied, a thin edge of anger rising up in him. "I am _not_ going anywhere, and neither are my teammates."

Huey and Hawkins were a little taken aback at the strong reploid's unflinching posture. He had stood up for them in that sentence, firmly refused hostility and countered the threats. Most importantly, he hadn't backed down. Behind him, the slightly deranged pilot and the sour regional Hunter shared a look. Huey nodded. Hawkins returned it.

"If you don't leave, you're headed for the scrap heap." Dragoon threatened, extending his claws out.

"If you were expecting me to fight you, you were mistaken." Goat countered. "I will not throw the first punch."

Dragoon roared and slashed a claw up, leaving gashes across Nil's synthskin. In spite of the unprovoked attack, Huey and Hawkins stayed still, waiting for the all-clear from Goat.

The goliath reploid ignored the bleeding cuts on his face and looked back to the bar.

"Pugs?" Goat called out, as if asking permission.

The burly hound shook his head. "Take it outside!"

Goat smiled, unnerving Dragoon and his flunkies. "As you wish." A thick, reinforced visor slid down from the top of his helmet, covering his eyes. Two vented faceplates slid from the sides and covered his mouth, and all three pieces locked into place with an audible _click._

Before Dragoon could react, Goat lunged forward, clotheslining Dragoon and one of his flanking warriors. He powered forward like a locomotive, scooping the others up in his plow of Maverick Hunters before rushing for the opposite wall. Amidst cries of disbelief, the Hunters seated in his path scrambled to get clear, and narrowly avoided being struck themselves. Using Dragoon and his 14th Unit squadmates as cover, Goat smashed through the wall of _The __Last __Round_…which was also the outermost wall of the MHHQ's main building as well. Screaming, the pile of Goat's making began to fall down to the ground several long meters below.

Hawkins punched Huey in the shoulder, shocking the pilot clear of his disbelief. "Come on!" The vulpinoid urged, a wicked look in his eyes. Huey blinked as he thought it over, then grinned and nodded. The two ran out of the bar, diving out of the hole in the wall of Goat's making and into the early night of the MHHQ grounds.

They landed behind a pileup of groaning Hunters, and with some effort, Goat disentangled himself from the heap and stumbled back.

"My leg!" One of Dragoon's lackeys cried out.

Growling loudly, Dragoon pushed himself up, brushing dust and mortar off of his arms. "Oh, you are so dead."

Goat looked behind him, finally noticing Huey and Hawkins. _"__What __are __you__ guys __doing __here?__"_ His voice called out from his full facemask.

"You looked like you needed some backup." Hawkins said, cracking his knuckles. "And I've got a bone to pick with him, too. He's got some gall, saying I'm not a Hunter."

"Maybe we just oughta prove it to him, then." Huey offered, summoning his Buster.

_"__No __weapons, __men.__"_ Goat cautioned them, glancing hard at Huey. _"__We__ don__'__t __shoot __Maverick __Hunters.__"_

"Aw, not even just to piss 'em off? You're no fun." Huey complied, in spite of the complaint. His Buster shifted back up into his arm, and he flexed his fingers with a sigh.

Back on their feet again, Dragoon and his three humanoid cohorts spaced themselves out, sizing up the opposition. "You three deal with the small fry. I'm going to knock the big guy's helmet off." In response, Goat beckoned Dragoon to come at him.

Dragoon charged forward, using his powerful lunge and leading with an outstretched fist. Goat caught the punch in his hamfist easily, and Dragoon followed up with a swing from his other hand. Goat caught that one as well, and before the dragonoid could react, snapped his arms up and over his body, jerking the Maverick Hunter off of the ground. A headbutt snapped into the dragonoid's midsection to stun him, and Goat slammed him down. He followed it up with a powerful elbow drop across Dragoon's throat, earning a strangled cough and a full body spasm.

_"__You __made __two __mistakes.__" _Goat taunted Dragoon, his voice echoing out from the slits in his armored faceplate. _"__First, __you__ thought __we __were __useless __in__ a__ fight. __And__ secondly,__ you __**wasted **__**beer!**__" _Goat stood back up, kicking Dragoon clear for good measure. After a moment or two, Dragoon lurched back upright, holding a hand to his midsection.

"I insult you, I attack you, and all you can think about is how I spilled your drink?"

_"__That __was __really __good __beer __you __wasted.__" _Goat snorted. _"__And __to __think __I __asked __you __to __leave.__"_

Dragoon broadened his legs out and went into a martial fighting stance. He gestured to Goat, baring his fangs. "Not until I carve you down to size."

_"__Well, __look __who __watches __ninja __holovids.__"_ Goat chuckled. _"__Are __you __any __good?__"_

A fireball, channeled between Dragoon's hands and fired off before Goat could finish his sentence, whistled past his empty, cannonless shoulder. Glaring over the top of his right palm, Dragoon was no longer fooling around. "Time for you to find out."

* * *

><p>The scuffle between Huey, Hawkins, and the other three 14th Unit Hunters was a bit less coordinated. Hawkins was at home, dodging and weaving around the flurry of punches and kicks leveled at him, but Huey was much more of a punching bag.<p>

"Hey now UNF! This is no OOMPH way for UNGH Hunters to act!" His sentence was interrupted by a kick to the back, a gut punch after a stumbling plod to the second Hunter ganging up on him, and a knock to the jaw. Feebly, Huey glanced around through his dizzy eyes to try and find Hawkins. "Hey, how about some help here?"

Dealing with his own opponent, Hawkins snorted in disgust. He blocked the reploid's punch with his forearm, then swept his leg around and knocked his opponent flat on the ground. He started punching the goon in the face even as he shouted behind him. "Damn it, Morgan, fight back!"

"I'm a pilot, not a street brawler!" Huey protested, getting clipped under an eye for his trouble.

"Well, change back into your armor at least!" Tomahawk Foxfire added, just before he was shoved backwards by a kick from his opponent.

"I don't exactly have the time to…" Huey was cut off when one of his attackers overzealously yanked back on the scruff of his shirt collar, tearing it with a loud _rrrriip._ Shocked, Huey took the next punch in silence and reached up behind his head. He fingered the ruined fabric, mouth opening in horror, and then looked at the 14th Unit Hunters with a seething hatred.

"You ruined my shirt."

Foxfire glanced over, blocking another punch on reflex from his opponent. "You ripped his shirt?"

"You ripped my shirt!" Huey repeated, angrier.

"You ripped his shirt." The vulpinoid winced.

The first of Huey's attackers tried to grab him from underneath his arms, and the pilot let out a howl of anguish. He veered back, flailing his scrawny, synthskin covered legs.

"YOU RUINED MY SHIRT!" Digging his boots into the ground (Which not even armor recall could rid him of), Huey ignited his dash thrusters and spun down, throwing his grappler towards the other. The two 14th Unit Hunters slapped into each other and fell into a pile, and Huey scrambled on top of them, howling and flailing wildly with his fists.

"YOU! RUINED! MY! SHIRT!" Huey shrieked, piercing the quiet night.

Hawkins finally disabled his target with a spinning roundhouse kick, and righted himself in time to whistle appreciatively at the sight. "He really loved that shirt."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Dragoon and Goat were still hard at it. The fiery dragonoid was quickly gaining ground as he unleashed the power of his true fighting style, but Goat stubbornly refused to back off. Whirling kicks and flaming uppercuts scuffed Goat's armor, but failed to put him down. The Swiss reploid was too bulky, too resilient.<p>

"Damnit, why won't you go down already?" Dragoon snarled. "I'm better than you are!"

_"__Is__ that __right?__"_ Goat reacted casually. _"__I__'__m__ not __so __sure __myself. __Maybe __I __ought __to __break__ you __over __my __knee, __then __I__'__d __know__ for __sure.__Oh,__ and__ you __would __be __a __cripple!__"_

"Then perhaps I should end this before you get the chance." Dragoon leapt backwards twice and reared his head back. When he snapped back down and crouched, his jaws were fully extended, and curls of fire snarled out from his throat. He meant to breathe out a gush of flames that would melt Goat where he stood.

Dragoon didn't get the chance. The loud report of a magshotgun went off behind them, and the members of the 14th Unit and Zephyr Team halted their struggles.

Walking towards them, Commander Volya, Commander Zero, and a human Hunter with a Commander's insignia on his uniform strolled into their midst. The human carried the smoking gun.

"Everybody, stand down _now!_" The human ordered sharply.

Not willing to anger a man with a loaded weapon, the two groups of Hunters pulled apart from each other and fell in. When Huey and Hawkins pulled next to Goat, Volya marched over and gave them his patented death stare.

"What the Hell were you doing?"

Goat disengaged his helmet's face shield and shrugged sheepishly, able to show his embarrassment at last. "Pugs told us to take it outside." He glanced up at the hole in the building and nodded. "So we did."

Morgan fell apart, almost crumpling to the ground as he laughed. "Take it outside, hee hee! Oh Jesus, that's funny!"

"Enough!" Volya snapped, which ended Huey's laughter with a squeak. "I expected better from all of you. Getting into a fight? In a bar?" His eye twitched angrily. "You must be better than you were. You must be flawless. And since you are having trouble with that concept, you are done tonight."

"Hey, we didn't start the fight, Volya." Hawkins snapped. "Dragoon did."

"And you all decided to finish it." Volya spat in disgust. "You are hereby confined to quarters." He glanced over to Huey and rolled his eye. "And change your shirt."

"Why? Something wrong with it?" Huey asked, having forgotten that it was ruined. He felt it, paused, and bugged his eyes out. "Hey! My shirt's torn up!"

"Oh, Christ." Hawkins looked skyward for guidance.

"Commander Hayes, why don't you go ahead and escort Zephyr Team back to their barracks." Zero suggested, not looking away from Magma Dragoon and the 14th Unit. "I'll deal with the others."

"Feh. Fine. You clean up the mess your kind made." The human scoffed. He whistled at Goat and his two teammates, then hoisted his weapon over his shoulder. "All right, kids. You're coming with me."

"Go on." Volya added coolly. "I will deal with you all later."

Chastened, Zephyr Team followed their escort away from the grounds and back into the main building. That left Volya and Zero to stare down Magma Dragoon and his men.

"Causing trouble again, Dragoon? I warned you." Zero shook his head. "You haven't been here long enough to make these kinds of waves."

"And _they_," Dragoon countered, pointing a jagged finger at the retreating reploids, "aren't real Hunters. They're transfers. They're spies for the GDC!"

"That's enough, Dragoon." Zero snapped. "I've got a room full of witnesses up there in Pugs' bar that say you're responsible for inciting the riot. I don't give a damn how you feel. You shove it down and you move on to business. We're professionals here. Today, you didn't act like one. You and your Unit are suspended without pay for a month."

"What?" Dragoon exploded. "That's bullshit! You can't make that kind of a decision!"

"Yeah, but Cain does. And guess who he listens to?" Zero smugly reminded the dragonoid. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Get the Hell out of my sight."

Cursing their change of fortune, Dragoon's bruised Hunters slinked away. Dragoon started to storm off as well, but paused by Volya's shoulder and looked out of the corner of his eye, growling. "Lucky you came along when you did, or else you would've been Commander of a squadron of body bags."

Unruffled, Volya tilted his head up slightly and met Dragoon's sidewards glance. "If you come after my team again, I will end you."

Volya held Dragoon in his view for two seconds before Dragoon snarled and left.

Zero exhaled. "Hell of a first day."

"We are the outsiders here." Volya reminded his superior with a touch of sarcasm. "But my men should know better."

"Maybe. But they stuck it out together." Zero pointed out, slapping Volya on the shoulder. "That should count for something."

Zero followed Dragoon and the 14th Unit Hunters back inside, leaving Volya alone in the fading sunset. The cyclopean Hunter glanced towards the setting sun and nodded slowly.

It counted for everything.

* * *

><p><em>Floor 5-B<em>

_Zephyr Team Quarters_

_9:57 P.M._

A row of angled recharge pods had been set up for the team's use, but to Goat's misfortune, they were all standard size. He had been forced to sit with his back against the one at the start of the row, piping a line into his arm to gain the system-stabilizing effects of its power balancer. It did not, however, make it any easier to fall asleep, nor did Huey's snoring.

Of course, it wasn't snoring; only humans could do that. But there was some undiagnosed fault between Morgan's positronic relays and his vocal processor that shorted out on an infrequent basis, and that was enough to produce a rumbling buzz every few minutes.

Sighing, Goat brought his systems back online. He detached the pod's exterior line, prompting a protesting beep. He stood up and appraised his three slumbering teammates. Lu, Hawkins, and Huey. He couldn't join them in rest, and he had been forbidden from returning to the pub. And all because he'd put a hole in their wall…

Having nothing better to do, he left the room and resolved to pace the hall until he was more fatigued.

When he passed Commander Volya's office, he stopped. A sliver of light leaked out from underneath: His commanding officer, his friend, was up as well.

Volya looked up from his pile of documents and datapads when the door slid open. "Nils." He blinked. "You could not sleep."

"It is hard when you cannot fit in your bed."

Volya made a face. "Standard sizes only?"

"Affirmative."

"I shall requestion an expanded bunk for you tomorrow morning." Volya promised.

"Thanks, Commander." Goat stepped up closer. "You could not sleep either?"

"For a different reason. I was looking through all of your records again. Something has not been sitting right."

"Oh? What, exactly?"

"You performed as I expected today. I am used to your peculiar tendencies. But the rest of this team…my preliminary assessments seem to be correct."

"How so?"

Volya removed his eyepatch, and turned his empty socket at Goat. The gaping hole made the towering reploid shiver, moreso when the Muscovite spoke again. "This team is being set up to fail."

Goat stared. "Would you put your eyepatch back on? You scare me like that."

Volya grunted, but complied with the request.

"Thank you." Goat gave his head a shake. "And are you serious?"

"I rarely joke, Nils. You know that." The Russian replied. "And I am deadly serious. The member nations of the GDC could have sent their best. They passed along damaged goods."

"Excuse me?" Goat blinked. "Where do you get that idea?"

"Huey was only recently released from prison. His positronic matrix is so scrambled, he is a barely functioning psychotic. Were he Russian military, he would be scrapped. Lu is so ancient and mechanical that I must give him orders as I would a child. Hawkins, as he likes to be called, has a severe problem with authority and a criminal record that almost made him Maverick."

"Well…but what about you and me?" Goat grinned. "I mean, we both did exceptionally well."

Volya stared at Goat. "Would you like me to go into detail about tonight?"

Goat's cheerful expression died quickly. "Not especially, no. And I am sorry about it, but…"

"Don't be." Volya waved off his apology. "You did the right thing."

"Come again?"

"You stood up for your teammates. You did not instigate the event." Volya explained.

"But…but outside, when you were with Commander Zero…"

"I said what was expected." Volya finished. "We are playing a most dangerous game now, Nils. The GDC has put us here, and the Hunters do not want us. We can rely only on one another, and we must fool the world. While I would prefer you not get into fights, as you did when I met you…this time, I am proud of you." Volya drummed his fingers on the surface of his desk. "I am promoting you to second in command of Zephyr Team."

"What? Why?" Goat gasped.

Volya pointed at him. "They followed you. You jumped, and they jumped out after you. There are two kinds of leaders, Nils. Those that guide by fear, and those who lead by example."

"Which am I?"

"Are you afraid of anything?"

"…Not at the moment."

"Then you are the second kind." Volya concluded.

"I…I don't know what to say, Volya."

"Then you may go." Volya waved him off. "Go. Try to sleep. Tomorrow is busy day…"

"And it will not be any easier, will it?"

Volya smiled at last. "You are learning. _Dasvedanya._"

An old feeling of camaraderie came out in Goat, and he came to attention and snapped off a salute. "It is just like old times, sir."

"It is never like old times."

"But watching you out there when you took on the simulator on Nightmare Mode…I'd never seen you fight like that. You were your old self there, weren't you? The _Bely__'__i__ D__'__yavol_."

Volya glanced up sharply, his eye squinted hard. "I do not know where you heard that name…but forget it. And never use it again."

Goat blinked. "Sure. If that's what you want."

"Leave." Volya ordered, no cheer left in him.

Goat nodded once more and turned for the door. "Good night, Commander."

* * *

><p><em>February 25th, 2128 C.E.<em>

_8:42 A.M._

Goat, Huey, and Tomahawk Foxfire rolled out of their barracks still carrying a touch of fatigue after their barfight the previous evening. Lu, however, was in good spirits. It had been easier for everyone to simply call the duplicate of their original squadmate by the first ones' name, especially now that he was severed from the others of his series that remained behind in China.

"Good morning!" Lu announced mechanically, his smile more a matter of protocol than instinct. "Did you all sleep well?"

"No." Goat muttered, rubbing his chin. "I see you did, though."

"You may all quit worrying about who slept and who did not last night." Volya cut in, stepping out of his office dressed in his usual black longcoat. "It is a new day. We have work to do. Come." He motioned for the four reploids to follow him, and headed out of Corridor 5-Beta.

"What's on the agenda today, then?" Foxfire asked, a touch more civil than he had been the day before. "More training, Commander?"

"Some. My kind of training." Volya explained. "But first, we may as well report for duty downstairs. There may be a mission for us."

"I thought we weren't ready for a mission." Goat reminded their leader.

"You are not. But this is what we are here for, and we must adhere to protocol." Volya explained patiently. "Maverick Hunters check in."

The five reploids crowded into the elevator with some difficulty, forcing Goat to slide to the very back so the others would not be squashed. The doors closed, and began to descend at an unusual cadence, one jolt after another.

"I believe this elevator may have trouble accommodating our combined weight." Lu observed.

"So we get a long drop and a lot of pain. That's nothing unusual." Huey hummed in tune with the elevator music, an off-key rendition of _Happy __Days__ Are__ Here __Again_.

"Would you please all stop talking about falling?" Hawkins irritably snapped. "I'm not a fan of crowded quarters to begin with, and you're not helping!"

"Claustrophobia?" Lu questioned. "Interesting. No psychological notation existed in your file upon review."

"Warriors learn to hide their scars from the doctors." Volya told Lu coldly. "Less chance of them breaking something in our heads."

Thankfully, the elevator made it to the ground floor with a shaky stop, and the doors opened into the MHHQ's main lobby.

"Made it." Hawkins exhaled in relief, leaping out of the confined space. Lu and Huey followed him out, and then Volya and Goat stepped off.

"Oh, there is one more thing." Volya paused, once they were all settled down. "I have promoted your comrade Nils to this team's second in command. In my absence, you will take orders from him."

"Hang on a second. You're giving him the top spot on the squad?" Tomahawk Foxfire questioned. "Why?"

"Think, Hawkins." Volya tapped the side of his head. "When you got into that fight last night…why did you follow his lead?"

The vulpinoid started to speak, but cut himself off when he processed the words. _Because __I __trusted __him._ "Never mind. It's fine with me."

"I thought as much." Volya grunted. He looked to Huey and Lu. "Anything to add?"

"No, no complaints." Huey quickly shook his head. "I know how you hate 'em."

"Nils' new unit rank assigned. Teammate Goat registered as superior officer." Lu said, as good a vote of confidence as any. "Query: Why does Nils carry nickname Goat? Nicknames Hawkins and Huey relate to primary name modification or task focus. Goat shares no such similarity."

Goat chuckled. "Oh, terrific. Now somebody asks me about it."

"It took them an entire day." Volya agreed, a slim smile gracing his face. "Explain, then."

"Well, I like ramming things." Goat said with a large shrug.

There was a half second pause, and Huey burst out with a hearty guffaw. "He sure does. That poor damn wall!"

"All right, all right." Volya brushed off the wave of laughter that followed the remark, ignoring Lu's confusion. "Stay focused. We have much to do, and the team is incomplete still."

"Oh, right. Right. There was, uh, some sort of…Navigator, wasn't it?" Goat prompted, waiting for Volya's nod before continuing, "Yes, a Navigator that was still to be assigned to us."

"What in blazes is a Navigator?" Hawkins asked, furrowing his thick eyebrows.

"OW! You stupid…" The loud outburst from the MHHQ's front entrance garnered Zephyr Team's attention, and they glanced up to see a female human-class reploid in orange and white armor with brilliant red hair stumbling into the foyer. She was dragging a heavy metal case with wheels behind her, and struggling by the looks of it. Angry emerald eyes glanced around the room, daring anyone to laugh at her. Nobody did, of course.

As other MHHQ personnel stopped and watched, she stomped up to the front desk and spoke with a crisp, Nordic accent. "Where can I find Commander Volya of the Zephyr Team?"

The head secretary blinked twice, chanced a look around the room, and lit up in recognition when she saw the ominous specter of Volya in his black longcoat. She pointed him out, and the red-haired reploid turned and spotted them.

_"__Niechevo.__"_ Volya muttered under his breath.

"Uh, boss?" Huey nudged his commander. "Is that lady supposed to be…"

"Shh, she's coming this way." Hawkins shushed his teammate.

"Cute looking little thing." Goat mused.

"Oh, like you'd have a chance." Hawkins snorted, getting a smack to the back of his head from Volya.

"Enough." Their leader commanded, and the whispers ended.

The orange-armored reploid, clearly non-military class in design, stopped in front of them and raised her hand up to salute in the Eurobloc style. "Commander Volya?"

"Yes." Volya nodded.

"I am Systems Officer Jenna from GDC Headquarters." The red-haired woman explained. "I've been assigned as your Systems Analyst Coordinator and Team Navigator."

"Perfect." Volya replied, completely without emotion.


	3. Training Run

_**MEGA MAN X: MAVERICK HUNTERS**_

By the Legacy of Metal Co-Authors

(Erico, Magus, Revokov, RoyFokker, and Maelgrim)

**Chapter Two: Training Run**

"_Whenever you cross swords with an enemy, you must not think of cutting him either strongly or weakly; just think of cutting and killing him."_

_-Miyamoto Musashi, __The Wind Book_

* * *

><p><em>Maverick Hunter Headquarters<em>

_ Jenna ran. She ran on sidewalks made of light, her footfalls entirely silent. On the 'net, how a reploid perceived information, how they visualized it, visualized _getting _to it, was up to the individual. She liked the idea of running, of building up momentum, so she could punch through the barriers that stood before her, in the real and electronic worlds._

_ The actual process of hacking a server was indeed more complex than the words 'brute force' implied. Normally she would be more subtle. But not today, not now. Jenna had something to prove. She also enjoyed knowing she would likely be responsible for some headaches among the human IT Security teams in New Amsterdam as they reworked the protocols she'd exploited. She wondered how long it would take for them to realize what had happened._

_ She decided it would take too long. A thought later, and she'd sent a compiled report of the exploit to her former colleagues._

_ Gripped 'tightly' in her left hand was a small baton, covered in ones and zeroes scrolling across its surface. Ahead of her, another figure identical to hers waited for the pass, arm outstretched. As she drew closer to this doppelganger, she could see others like it, sprinting in from connecting paths that stretched into the virtual distance, towards spheres representing servers located in Europe. The multiple Jennas all made contact with the waiting runner at the same time. There was a moment's pause, several bright flashes, and Jenna was on the run once more, all alone._

_** Security Clearance to MHHQ Information Network...granted.**_

_ The iron barred gates that stood in her way shattered as she ran through them. Behind the gate she found herself within what appeared to be an old fashioned library, with bookcases and shelves that seemed to go on forever. She continued to sprint through the corridors, taking seemingly random turns, her eyes scanning everything she passed by, until she slid to an abrupt halt before one particular set of 'books'._

* * *

><p>"What's a Navigator?" Hawkins asked once more on behalf of his comrades.<p>

"An unnecessary component." Volya answered. "If removed from a well-oiled machine, you would only notice improvements from its absence."

"A Navigator provides actionable real-time intelligence to reploid and human combatants during field operations," Jenna countered. "While you are all busy trying not to get yourselves killed, I handle tactical and strategic electronic warfare and analyze threat data transmitted back to me. I have access to the GDC orbital surveillance network to facilitate this, as well as a redundant internal-external hardware system suite designed specifically for my duties." She marched towards the team, her manner confrontational, pausing in front of Lu. "You're different from the one in your personnel file. Already lost one I see?"

"Affirmative." If the Chinese reploid was surprised, he seemed incapable of actually displaying it.

_ She already knows? _Volya wondered if this was another instance of MHHQ security being lax. He concentrated for a moment, but could not detect any sign that she was accessing the local wireless networks.

"You're wondering," Jenna's smile was almost wicked, "why I already know that? SA rank in the simulation yesterday, hmm Commander? A rather exciting performance, I can see that now." She frowned at Lu. "Not so much for you. The price of being designed 'expendable' I suppose. There's always room for improvement. Our Commander has set the bar rather high."

"You will not continue this course you've set yourself upon." Volya said quietly, exuding menace as he stepped closer to the reploid. She glared up at Volya towering over her, then walked past him to inspect Nils.

"Do you prefer Goat, or Nils? You're Swiss, good. Someone reasonable, I hope. Second in command, I'm to understand?"

"Yes ma'am." Despite the fact that he dwarfed the woman, Nils still felt as though he was at a disadvantage. He wasn't used to seeing anyone brush off a demand from Volya in quite the fashion this reploid had. "Hey, how do you already-"

"Tomahawk 'Hawkins' Foxfire, an American." Jenna had already moved on to her next subject. "Interesting transfer, from AmeriCanada to Japan, and a vulpinoid at that! I've not had the pleasure of working with one."

"Pleasure's all mine I'm sure." Hawkins offered a handshake, but she simply dodged past him with self-conscious grace to stand before Huey. _She's one of those. Knows what she's got, not afraid to use a little of that eye-pull._

"And you're our pilot. Right out of active stasis." Her face scrunched up with frustration. "Your files are surprisingly well protected. Even Cain-approved access isn't good enough?" She glowered. "Not for long."

Thinking she was accusing him of having done something wrong, Huey glared right back at Jenna. "What's your problem?! I haven't even stared at your ass!"

"Is this ALL of Zephyr unit, Commander Volya?" She whirled on the former Spetznaz reploid, ignoring Huey's comment and his gaze, hands on her hips, completely exasperated. "No wonder they told me so little about my assignment. This is a joke. Full units have at least twenty Hunters, but Zephyr's files begin with Volya and end with...me." She began to pace, distracted by her spoken thoughts. "They don't seriously expect me to go into the field, do they? That is far from what I was originally designed." A sudden realization struck her. "We are a distraction, a decoy?"

"Navigator." Volya rumbled, his void loud enough to temporarily silence the entire room. "You should-"

"Not have access to personnel files without your explicit permission, or Cain's, or any of the network security consultants on-site, or without bypassing their automated intrusion countermeasures?" Jenna actually leaned closer to the Russian. "Apparently you and I have a very different idea of what I need to know if I'm going to act as your Navigator!"

_ He's going to kill her,_ Nils felt a twinge of panic as he watch Volya take an unnecessarily deep breath. He was half convinced that in the next instant, the brash woman would find herself vertically bisected into even halves. If it didn't happen now, Nils could easily imagine any number of accidents that Volya could arrange.

"Your services may not be needed." His single eye focused in on Jenna, and still she did not back down. If anything, she looked almost distracted. "I suggest you do not get comfortable."

"It is not your decision, or mine. I know my orders. I trust you know yours." She flicked her hair back over her shoulders before she turned back to her metal case. "If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with the good Doctor Cain himself. I will catch up to you at the simulators. Your personal schedule suggested you'll be there within the next hour."

Jenna walked briskly to the heavy case that she had arrived with, then began dragging it towards the elevators, muttering to herself. The receptionist of the main entrance who had witnessed the the verbal altercation moved to offer her assistance, but was waved off.

"You do not need to report to the simulators, Systems Officer," Volya announced as she reached the elevator. "I intend to protest your assignment to this unit vigorously. We've enough to be concerned with to have a non-combatant test subject further meddle with our affairs."

The remark went seemingly ignored until she pushed the case into the elevator. It noticeably sagged with the weight. Once she stepped inside, she glared another set of daggers at Volya, but then her expression softened. Simultaneously, the emergency fire sprinklers directly over the heads of her five squad-mates descended from their storage slots on the roof, and commenced a perfectly aimed deluge.

"Good morning, Commander." The elevator door shut just as Jenna waved at the group. After the elevator had ascended several floors, the sprinklers shut down and locked themselves back into storage.

Volya remained silent for a full minute, and eyewitnesses later swore that the water that soaked his frame had begun to boil.

"She is...rather good." Nils offered weakly, taking a step back away from Volya.

"They were talking about Navigators years ago, now that I think about it." Hawkins said. "We never woulda seen them back home, funding cuts and all."

"Conceptually sound. Even operating my electronic warfare suites at full capacity requires direct connection to Home," Lu remained coldly analytical. "Looking forward to establishing connection protocols with Navigator, could supplement my current capabilities in the absence of my primary external resources."

Huey started snickering at 'establishing connection protocols', but otherwise kept his thoughts on Jenna, if he had any, to himself.

"Lu. How did she do it?" Volya sounded more curious than angry.

"Local network security still operating at maximum efficiency. Command-level access detected two minutes ago, authorized by Doctor James T. Cain. No record of any access by reploid Jenna. No detected network access from her current body. Suspect case carried was the special external hardware mentioned during introduction, possible relay for her. " Lu frowned, an expression he'd not shown even while requesting his brother be euthanized. "Her electronic warfare capability far exceeds my own."

"So it does." The commander began to stomp away, his heavy boots splashing in the growing puddle, water pouring in rivulets along the various edges of his armor. "Clean this mess, and report to the holo-simulator."

"Weren't we going to check in?" Goat asked.

"Leave that to me. You have your orders." Ducking into another elevator, Volya began his pursuit.

A minute later, he cursed as the elevator went down in reverse of his orders and stopped at every single floor on the way to the sub levels of MHHQ, then repeated the same on its way back up towards Cain's office.

* * *

><p>Systems Officer Jenna had entered Cain's office calm and composed, offering a salute as soon as the door had allowed her inside, and marching in with military precision. The aging doctor appraised her as she walked in, surprised at her general appearance. Somewhere along the line, a designer had thought looks counted for a whole lot, hence her overall appearance. Were it not for the armor, she'd have passed for a human model. The picture of beauty and discipline.<p>

"Well, you don't look like the type to have used my security clearance to activate the emergency fire sprinklers in the lobby." He gestured to a message blinking URGENT on the holographic display on his desk.

"Nothing sinister, sir. Or do you prefer 'doctor'?" Jenna did not look surprised that he already knew of her antics. He gestured to the seat on the opposite side of his desk, and she sat dutifully.

"Either or, doesn't matter to me." His grin was hard to read with his white beard, but the skin around his eyes crinkled slightly. "You seem tense. All things considered, you have a right to be. You'll have to lose that Eurobloc discipline around here, nobody wants a reminder that you're from the GDC."

"I gathered that Zephyr's presence is not welcome here."

"Personal experience, or from the files you've accessed?"

"Both, doctor." Jenna finally allowed herself to relax. She looked disappointed. "I did not choose to be assigned here. I would just as soon prefer a location that is less hostile. It's not even a proper sort of hostility. Nobody is brave enough to come out and say it. The receptionist on duty in particular, rude little snot." Speaking seemed to further loosen her own discipline, her own hot temper flaring up briefly. "Even you, doctor. I would prefer it if I'd been simply told to go retire myself where no one could see. The world is much clearer when such things are out in the open."

"And you didn't get any say in your appearance, or what you were built for. I know. Ostracized by humans and your own kind." Cain aged with every word, standing from his chair and limping towards the window facing out over the rest of New Tokyo. He did not want to face her accusatory expression. She was right about everything she'd said. "To me, you're another reminder of what I helped unleash on the world."

"Thanks, dad."

"Well, you're in the Maverick Hunters now. Until you go back to your original posting, you'll have to deal with that. Which means no further stunts like the one you pulled." Despite the admonishing tone, the old man couldn't help laughing. "How _did_ you manage it?"

"A magician shouldn't reveal her secrets." Jenna puffed her chest out proudly even as she feigned modesty, twisting locks of her crimson hair around a finger. "It was nothing special, though. By design, I am able to split my consciousness in the Network to allow for multitasking, and I used this to access necessary servers here in Japan as well as in Amsterdam. I simply found a copy of an email you sent ten minutes ago to GDC command, via a keystroke log on your terminal here in this office. It seems you also agree that Zephyr unit, consequently myself, shouldn't be assigned to Japan."

She'd paused for dramatic effect, studying James Cain with almost frightening intensity, trying to read his reaction. He _had_ sent a curt, but professional e-mail to Amsterdam regarding Zephyr Unit. He cited concerns with morale among the Hunters, the interoperability between 'his' men and women, and those handpicked by an organization that continued to argue for shutting down the Hunters worldwide. He detailed the fight that had broken out between the GDC reploids and members from the 14th Unit.

It was a disaster waiting to happen, and lives were being put at risk while the GDC tried to look good in the press. As the man who helped fund and create the Maverick Hunters, he had only felt it right to raise these concerns to the people in charge of making them possible in the first place.

But to Jenna, who sat before him now, it was calling into question her entire existence. He, just like the receptionist, just like the commander who had questioned her usefulness and ability, all were telling her she simply wasn't necessary.

When it became clear that Cain had nothing to say, Jenna continued.

"I edited two copies of that message, which include a perfect replica of your electronic signature. One was sent to Amsterdam, detailing my arrival, interview, and a security clearance request from myself and you. The second was a reply to another email I forged, signed off by my previous commanding officer, including my service record as requested. You should be seeing that one now. Piecing together your security log-in key from the keystroke log, I tested it against the defenses surrounding the personnel file system, and I broke in with no intrusion countermeasure queries from the automated defenses, and the key also protected me from active defenses manned by your reploid IT department." Jenna's voice had taken an almost sing-song quality by the end of her explanation. "You are possibly the biggest threat to your internal network security, and one I wish could exist in every other network I would be tasked to access. It was better than any friendly welcome you could have possibly mustered, even if it had been sincere in nature." She feigned a half-bow in her seat. "But I do apologize, doctor."

Behind her, the door to the office slid open once again, revealing a still wet Volya, wearing an expression that was half way between total frustration and grudging amusement.

"Apologize for what, exactly? The hacking or the pranks?" The Muscovite reploid grunted.

"To call what I did a prank indicates a gross ignorance of the technical expertise required, Commander. Cain's access key was enough for me initiate a localized fire alarm event in the system. I then blocked that alarm event from every single other emergency system in the building, ensuring there would be no audible or silent alarms, and only the sprinklers directly over your head would activate, under the assumption that the entire system had been alerted." She spun the chair slowly around to face the combat reploid. "The elevator was entirely my doing, though. I'd do it again, if it proves my point." She stood from her seat, walking back towards her heavy metal case. "You'll find my unique, factory-given gifts to be useful, Volya. I promise you this."

"Report to the simulator, then. We will see if this is a promise you can keep."

"About your living arrangements-" Cain began, but stopped when the woman raised her hand to cut him off.

"I will use the vacant office near Zephyr's quarters. It's away from the combat personnel of the team, and isolated from Maverick Hunters. The external hardware I'm bringing can be set up there. So long as I'm one of the 'enemy', I see no reason to allow your people to have a closer look at my set up."

"That will be problematic." Cain decided to try another friendlier tack. "You could help train personnel in your duties, so we could begin preparing Navigator support for other existing teams."

"I recommend you find someone you trust to train them, doctor. That clearly isn't going to be someone from Zephyr Unit."

Dragging the case behind her, Jenna hummed a tune neither Volya or Cain could identify as she marched out of the office without another word.

Cain looked to the Commander of Zephyr Team. "Looks like you'll have your hands full with that one."

Staring back with his one good eye, Volya scratched along the top of his eyepatch and shook his head. Wordlessly, he turned about and followed his Navigator.

* * *

><p><em>MHHQ<em>

_Sub-Basement Secondary Annex (Holosimulator Row)_

"Day 2, and we're back here again." Huey sing-songed. Unlike the day before, they weren't the only Hunters running morning exercises in the holo-rooms. A small group of Hunters from Special Unit 0 were running a simulation in the side room, and the 7th Unit was in one of the large chambers running full unit training.

The four teammates of Zephyr Team set up shop in one of the small siderooms and bided their time, waiting for Volya to show up. The moment of respite gave them all a chance to let their minds wander to more interesting topics, which turned out to be their newest squadmate.

"So, she doesn't fight, she doesn't even go out into the field with us. She just sits behind a computer somewhere and bosses us around?" Huey asked.

"That's about the size of it." Hawkins confirmed.

"Commander Volya's reluctance to the presence of our Navigator is most puzzling." Lu ventured. "Is he a misogynist?"

"No, that is not the case." Goat folded his arms. "The Commander is a very old-fashioned thinker. To him, a Navigator is more of a distraction than an aid. He needs to warm up to the idea."

"So he's gone through this kind of adjustment before, then." Hawkins reasoned. "How long do you think it will take him before he accepts her?"

"Well, let me see." Goat thought about it. "I first met him on a joint border patrol operation in the Balkans, and we…well, it was our fourth week together before he said more than, "Hey you" to me. So give it a month."

Huey slapped himself in the face with a groan. "Terrific."

"I know he's good." Hawkins said, trying to stay somewhat on topic. "But has he always been this cold to people?"

Goat shook his head. "No. No, that's different. He was able to relax slightly from mission ready when I first met him. He also had both of his eyes back then. Now, he seems frozen as a stoic warrior."

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Or is that the cow that wears the pants?" Huey rambled.

Goat leaned his large bulk on the end of his safetied ATA-7 Bazooka and sighed. "Yes, I suppose that would do it."

The access door slid open as he finished his sentence, and a sour-looking Volya stepped inside. "That would do what, Nils?"

"Uh, nothing, Volya." Goat quickly pulled himself back to attention. "So what's on the agenda? Will Miss Jenna be joining us?"

"She will be upstairs." Volya answered uncomfortably. "As soon as she is connected, we will begin our team exercise."

"So what are you putting us up against?" Hawkins asked. "A program you made up, or something standard in their system?"

Volya checked his systems over, removing his black longcoat and setting it outside the room door. "I found a program in their library last night that should be most enlightening. A tower assault."

"Oh, well that's good." Huey cackled. "I get to fly something this time, then."

"Negative." Volya refused him. He primed his Buster and drew his beam shortblade, but kept it deactivated, resting the metal cylinder in his hand. "We will need to keep together as a team to meet the victory conditions."

"Oh, that inspires me with confidence." Hawkins cringed. "At least it's not a Nightmare Mode run."

Volya paused in his grooming to stare at the vulpinoid, and Hawkins swallowed. "Crap. It is, isn't it?"

"Anticipate that your enemies will always have more data, more time, more men, more armor, and better weapons than you will." Volya explained calmly. "Then you will never be surprised when the world burns around you."

"Right." The vulpinoid nodded uneasily. "So, Nightmare Mode."

Lu slid a magazine into the magrifle he'd requisitioned the day before; like Goat's munitions, it had been waiting for him in the weapons locker in the corridor, dutifully warped down from the armory. "Our probability of success increases with our numbers."

"Perhaps." Nils said carefully. "But then again, we do not have much experience in fighting as a team. This may be very rough."

Volya absently adjusted his eyepatch. "Remember what I told you all yesterday?"

"Sort of. You said we sucked." Huey chuckled. "A real pep talk, that was."

"No." Volya gave his head a shake. "I said that you each have your own ways of fighting. Lu, you fought with total disregard to your own safety. Hawkins, you lost yourself to blood fury. Huey, you need to concentrate more. And Goat? You…" The Russian made a face. "Do…less of what you did before."

"Uh…yes?" Goat unsteadily replied. Volya pressed on.

"To act as a team, we must draw upon our strengths, and support one another. We must learn to fight, expecting what our teammates will do. It must become as natural as breathing. If we can do it in here, then we can do it in the field."

"Sensible enough." Hawkins nodded. Though Volya was still abrasive, he'd earned the vulpinoid's respect. The reploid was a leader, if not a sociable one. "And we're hitting the water facefirst. You believe in hitting the ground running, don't you?"

"You hit the ground, or the ground hits you." Lu suggested. That earned an unblinking stare from the team, especially Volya. Unaffected, the Chinese reploid slung his magrifle over his shoulder and checked his arm pistons.

"Amen." Huey offered, breaking the silence.

* * *

><p>Jenna had allowed herself only a brief stopover at her private quarters in Corridor 5-B. It was unusual that they would be stationed in the main building instead of the barracks, but given the rather explosive incidents of the day before, that had probably been a wise decision on the part of Dr. Cain. At least it made getting from point to point easier.<p>

The bulk of her gear, she'd stowed away and put in lockdown. It wouldn't do for somebody to come by and make off with it. All she had taken with her on the long transit to the Holosim Sub-Basement was a small flashmem stick and a broad-spectrum communications headset.

Now, she waited patiently in the main control booth as the primary on-duty technician scanned both devices with a "sniffer box," a portable scanner that checked for viruses and other hostile hidden programs. It did a thorough job of it: When the thirty-second scan finished, a yellow indicator light put up the warning.

"Your headset is good to go." The technician said, handing the ear-covering muffler and wire-thin attached microphone back to her. "The system flagged several batch files on your flashmem, though."

"It would be a shame if it didn't." The red-haired Navigator calmly replied. "It's designed to integrate with training centers, such as this one, and provide access to an approximate suite of applications I have in real life. It also programs your core memory and processors to adjust to the increased strain for maximum efficiency."

Her MHHQ counterpart didn't seem reassured by that. "We don't allow people to reprogram our machines. There was an incident six years ago…"

"The Shadow Hunters incident. Yes, I'm aware of it." Jenna cut him off. "Fine. You may run it as a read-only addition. Your system will work a little harder, though. It shouldn't crash anything, but…"

"Your concern is noted, Miss Navigator." The tech removed her flashmem stick from the sniffer box and handed it back. "To be honest, I'm actually sort of curious how you'll affect their performance."

"That makes two of us." Jenna answered softly. She raised her voice. "Do you mind if I take the console overlooking their room?"

"Help yourself. I've got to get back to monitoring the 7th Unit."

Left to her work, Jenna sat down at a secondary control console overlooking the holosim room Volya had checked out. Affixing her headset, she plugged the memory stick into an access port. Ignoring the warning message, she instructed the system to deny the installation request and run as read-only.

One by one, her application icons came online: Teamspeak and private channels, electrosphere uplink (Simulated, as there was no electrosphere access this far down), a non-comprehensive database of known aggressor Mavericks, mechaniloids, and weaponry, and her unit monitoring software. The last program was dimmed out: She would have to attune each one of Zephyr Team's warriors for that function to work, and that required time she didn't have.

Fully online, she opened up the comms, tying each member to her control station. "Commander, we're ready to go up here. What program did you want me to load up?"

Through the angled transparisteel window, Volya glanced up and took notice of her. _"Zephyr 1 from now on. Assign numerical designations to the others in this order: Goat, Hawkins, Lu, and Morgan."_

Jenna made the necessary alterations. "Confirmed, Zephyr One. My callsign is Sentinel."

_"Sentinel?"_ Goat, or Zephyr 2, asked curiously.

_"Yeah. She watches over us." _Hawkins joked.

_"Sentinel."_ Volya got the team focused again. _"Load program Tower 01: Nightmare Mode."_

Jenna raised an eyebrow at the difficulty level, but decided not to argue the point. "On it."

She brought up the desired program and started the launch procedure. The delay gave her time to review the description.

**First Maverick Uprising. Karashita Tower, New Tokyo.**

The attached Maverick, Boomer Kuwanger, had been an elite in his time. Commander of his own unit, and one of the eight generals in Sigma's 1st Unit: A ferocious Maverick after he turned.

The program construct began to load around Zephyr Team, replacing the empty room with a sight ten years in the past.

"Good luck, Zephyr Team." Jenna whispered, as they slipped into the mission.

* * *

><p><em>Karashita Tower (Simulated)<em>

_New Tokyo, Japan_

_June 10__th__, 2118 C.E._

_Nightmare Mode_

In place of an empty, heavily reinforced room, the five found themselves standing outside the main entrance of an enormous skyscraper with two adjoined towers.

Mitsubachi polycraft, Bee Bladers, patrolled the airspace above them at 100 meters.

"Ooh! Ooh! Volya, you've gotta let me hijack one of those!" Huey said excitably.

"Call me Zephyr 1 during missions." Volya angrily corrected him. "And no. That would alert them to our presence. Let's get inside. Our target should be at the top of this structure."

"Couldn't we just warp up there?" Hawkins asked.

_"I wouldn't recommend it, Zephyr Three."_ The voice of "Sentinel" came over the radio receivers embedded in their helmets, and in the case of Hawkins, his wristband communicator. _"I've tapped into local electrosphere grids, or what the simulation is using, anyway, and there's a strong, localized field effect around the tower. You wouldn't even reintegrate."_

"Did they even have antiwarp fields back then?" Huey complained.

"If you had studied your history, you would know that warp shielding has been around since Wily's time." Goat informed him.

"Son of a bitch probably invented it." Hawkins added sourly. "Okay, so the direct route is out. Through the front doors, then?"

Volya scrutinized the inviting prospect for a moment and shook his head. "Also negative. I am seeing sentry beams in the ultraviolet spectrum on those doors."

_"UV Lasers?"_ Jenna questioned. _"How can you see that?"_

Calmly, Volya tapped his black eyepatch. "It can detect both ultraviolet and infrared signatures."

_"That wasn't in your personnel file!"_

"A great many things are not." Volya ended the conversation.

"Sentinel, could you disable the door alarms?" Goat asked.

_"Negative."_ They could hear the sound of Jenna's fingers flying over a keyboard. _"Whoever's in charge of that tower has the security systems locked down tight. I'm trying to break in, but it will be a while. You're on your own for a bit."_

"Like always." Volya exhaled. "The front doors are out of the question. That leaves a more direct option. Few security systems monitor wall integrity."

"Query, Zephyr One: Are you suggesting that we break down a section of the building's exostructure?" Lu asked.

Volya shook his head. "No, Four. Not us. Just Zephyr Two."

Everyone turned and looked to Goat. The enormous reploid blinked, then squinted his eyes over the faceguard of his unvisored helmet. "Are explosives allowed?"

"No. Too much potential for discovery." Volya advised him. "Use your strength alone."

Goat handed his bazooka over to Huey, who almost toppled over by the weight of the weapon. "Even better." He chuckled. "Cover me."

Everyone readied their weapons as Goat plodded to the wall and sized it up with several hard taps of his hamfists. "Hm. Solid granite surfacing, but it's only a foot thick."

"So can you demolish it?"

"Probably standard plasteel underneath." Goat looked skyward for a moment. "Yes, I should be able to handle it."

"Well, you may want to hurry it up, because one of those Bladers is moving in for a closer look!" Huey urged him in a panic.

"Please do not distract me. This requires absolute focus." Goat chided him. He pulled his right arm back and cocked it at the elbow, then slammed it forward with tremendous force. The first punch rattled the ground from the vibrations and left a cracked spiderweb pattern in the surface of the building…two inches deep.

"Anytime now." Hawkins muttered, eyeing the descending Bee Blader. It hadn't yet brought its sensors to bear on them, but in seconds, it would, and then they'd be in it deep.

With what seemed like an effortless motion, Goat repeated his punch and broke through the granite and its undersupports. The stone crumbled away, pieces of debris flying inwards from the force of the blow. Goat followed up with a doublefisted swing and two hard kicks, widening the hole, then charged inside. The others quickly followed, taking up positions along the interior wall on either side of the gaping hole.

The _whup-whup-whup-whup_ of the Bee Blader's rotor kicked up dust in all directions as it settled outside of the tower. Long seconds passed, with the team maintaining radio silence, and Volya calmly using a flat-handed downwards pushing motion to tell the team to stay put. It didn't stop Goat from reclaiming his Bazooka back from Huey and bringing it to firing position, or from Lu readying his magrifle.

Finally, the Bee Blader rose back up away from the ground, and the artificial currents of air from its wash dissipated. They all breathed a sigh of relief as it went back to its search pattern.

"How come it didn't send up an alarm? I mean, it was parked in front of our hole!" Hawkins exclaimed.

Huey only giggled. "Heh. First generation Bladers. Stupid as Hell. They only report trouble if they spot moving targets or vehicles. A hole in the wall doesn't exist to their puny little brains."

"We were lucky, then." Lu decided.

"And if you rely on luck to save you, then you are a fool." Volya ignited his beam shortblade and glanced around the lobby of Karashita Tower. "No enemy contacts. Let's get moving."

* * *

><p><em>Holosim Control Center<em>

The clattering of fingers on the console's flatpanel keyboard paused after ten seconds, then came an invective. "Damn." Jenna tried again with another access subroutine on the flashmem stick, and scowled as it, too, failed. "Damn!" Brute forcing the system resulted in an indignant beep, and she pounded the keyboard in frustration. "Damn, damn, _damn!_"

The other technicians glanced up momentarily from their own work, but didn't offer any remark. Jenna wasn't in a mood to put up with commentary, anyhow. "All right, you. You're going to be a pain in my ass? Let's be a pain in yours."

Imitating a mass denial of service attack, she blindsided the security program of the simulated Karashita Tower. While it struggled to cut off access, she snuck in a username request.

Confused, the security programs let the "innocuous" request through, and a comprehensive list of user accounts came up. Scanning through them, Jenna smiled. "Now for the real fun."

Accessing the Karashita Tower program database, she reviewed the casualty reports that the Maverick Hunters had collected. One of the humans that died in the communications tower's "Liberation" was Akagi Sunamoto, the Chief of Security.

"Perfect. Right up their backdoor." Jenna smirked. A password request from his user account provided her the 32 symbol-long alphanumeric code that was Mr. Akagi's access key. Hoping that Boomer Kuwanger hadn't disabled the tower's user accounts, she silenced the DDOS attack and tried the username and password.

He hadn't.

"Hello, there." Jenna smirked, flexing her fingers. She brought up the schematics of the tower to a side screen and then accessed the security camera controls. "Time to start some loop recording." She told herself, then she touched her headset's connect button. "Sentinel to Zephyr Team. I've broken into the Tower security controls, and I've got eyes on you."

* * *

><p>The team was climbing a stairwell when Jenna's call came in. Volya stopped the procession and tapped the side of his helmet. "Do you now? Are there any sentries ahead?"<p>

_"Not in the stairwell itself, no. There are plenty of security cameras, but I can work around them."_

"You can turn them off?" Zephyr 1 said.

_"No, that would alert the Maverick in charge here that something was wrong. I'm recording every camera feed along your route. Once you get close, I'll play it in a loop, and they'll be none the wiser as you pass through."_

"They won't see us, just an empty hallway." Goat repeated wonderingly.

_"Exactly, Zephyr 2."_ Sentinel said. _"The stairwell goes up another 6 flights before it caps off at the lower checkpoint. From there, you'll have to take your chances on the main concourse, and there __**is**__ trouble waiting for you."_

"Hey, couldn't you disable them?" Huey asked. "Put them into sleep mode?"

_"Even if I wanted to, boys, I couldn't."_ Sentinel answered. _"The Maverick sentries aren't tied into the grid. They're running on their own system, and I can't access it."_

"Understood." Volya killed his helmet's microphone. He gazed at the team. "We should not rely too heavily on Sentinel. In the end, we will only have each other."

"So what's the plan, then? Once we reach the first tier of this place, they'll know what's going on." Hawkins voiced.

Volya grunted. "It is a good thing, then, that we have a scout."

Hawkins did a double take, then scowled. "Aw, son of a bitch."

"We will be right behind you!" Goat promised him. Hardly reassured, Hawkins tucked his tomahawks away and leapt to the railing.

"I hope you're messing with their cameras, Sentinel."

_"Never stopped, Zephyr 3. Good hunting."_

With a mobility and grace that only an animal-class reploid could easily provide, Hawkins made one jump after another off of the top of the stairs' handrails, barely stopping. In seconds, he was standing in front of the first security door.

He took a slow breath to steady his microfusion generator, then pressed his ear to the door. He heard nothing beyond. Taking a chance, Hawkins nudged the latch open.

On the other side, he found that the Mavericks had done their fair share of redecorating. Entire passageway had been gutted, the lightstrips had been ripped off their mounts, and almost every bit of ornamentation had been burned and smashed beyond recognition.

"Terrific. This must've been during Sigma's blue period." Hawkins remarked to himself. He closed the door behind him quietly and leapt to the wall, then jumped to the ceiling, digging his claws into the dilapidated permacrete. Clambering the ceiling like a spider, Hawkins approached what was left of the stairway headed up the tower. Handhold by handhold, he reached the lip of a gaping hole in the floor above. Slowly, he gripped the underside of the ledge and leaned his head out.

Standing watch at the checkpoint was a lone mace and shield-wielding mechaniloid, reminiscent of the militarized KIF robot series 60 years before. It hadn't seen him.

Hawkins eased his head back out of view, and flicked his mechanical ears thoughtfully. Deciding on his course of action, he pulled his feet forward and dug his hindclaws in hard, inches from his hands. He pulled his hands free and hung upside down, then started to rock back and forth, testing his inverted perch. When his feet held firm, Hawkins moved.

In one swift jerk, he contorted his body up over the lip of the ledge and grabbed the Hoganmer by its ankles. With momentum and gravity on his side, Hawkins reared back and yanked his prey down through the hole. Unable to do a thing to save itself, the sedentary sentry did a faceplant into the floor below. Sparking from the impact, it weakly tried to raise its head up. Hawkins didn't give it time to recover. He landed hard on its back and sliced quickly through its neck with an unpowered tomahawk, decapitating it.

Having destroyed the only thread, Hawkins cheerfully twirled his weapon about before stowing it with a flourish. He tapped the radio transmitter in his forearm. "Hawk…Erm, Zephyr 3 to One. Clear to come up."

The door to the tower stairwell opened again, and Volya, with the magrifle toting Lu at his side, came through next. They sized up the room, then Volya tapped his helmet. "2 and 5, clear." Goat and Huey came in last, and the four rejoined their ally. Lu knelt down by the fallen Maverick sentry and looked it over.

"Termination caused by sharp force trauma between the second and third auxiliary positronic corridors. Quick and effective." The Chinese reploid looked up to Hawkins. "A good kill, Zephyr 3."

"Thanks, I think." The unnerved vulpinoid responded. He motioned to a ladder ahead of them. "There's your point of egress."

"Very good, Three. Move ahead and search for additional patrols, but do not engage." Volya tapped his helmet. "Sentinel."

_"Yes, Commander?"_

"We will observe radio silence for this next leg. Do you have anything to say before we move on?"

_"That sentry must have had some kind of neural activity monitor on it. I'm picking up on increased movement ahead, and the cameras are on direct feed and control. I can't mask your presence with image loops anymore."_

"Well, that's terrific. Is there any good news?" Goat complained.

_"One bit of it. I found a schematic of the tower through my access account. It won't tell you where the targets are, but at least you'll know where you're going. I'm uploading it to you all now."_

"I don't need to know where I'm going if I know where I've been!" Huey boasted. He flipped down the visor on his flight helmet and blinked as the building diagram popped up in front of his eyes. "But this is kinda nice."

"Thanks, Sentinel." Goat added. He brought down the blast visor of his own helmet, fully shrouding his head behind metal and crystal. "File received." He said, in an altered, more mechanical voice.

_"Prekrasneya_, Sentinel." Volya grunted, the first real compliment he'd given her. "Going silent."

_"Good hunting, Zephyrs."_ Jenna wished them well, and then her channel clicked off.

Alone once more, Zephyr Team's main contingent headed for the ladder while Hawkins jumped up to the roof and scurried out of sight like a spider.

Volya, Lu, and Huey made it up without difficulty, but as soon as Goat put his full weight on the ladder, the reinforced aluminum groaned and gave way with a spectacular crash. Lu and Huey poked their heads down and stared at the cloud of dust kicked up from Goat's fall. "Hey, Nils, you okay?" Huey called down.

He got a grunt in reply, and a sheepish Goat stood upright, shaking debris off of himself. "I have been better. I do not think the ladder will work for me."

"I do not think it will work for anyone now." Volya corrected him. "Can you make it up here another way?"

Goat paced around below, stopping underneath the large hole in the ceiling that Hawkins had climbed through. He grunted and leapt up a few feet, as much as he could manage. It was enough, though. Due to his towering height, he was able to get his arms up through the hole and grab hold of the floor above. Straining, kicking his heavy boots uselessly in the air, Nils pulled himself up and lay like a beached whale for a few moments.

"Hey, are you all right man?" Huey came over and nudged his shoulder.

Volya walked around his second in command, shaking his head. "Joke on your own time, Goat, not mine."

"Oh, fine. You're no fun anymore, did you know that?" Goat picked himself up, checked his shouldered bazooka and mounted cannon again, then took up the rear. "How far ahead is Hawkins?"

The sound of a plasma turret discharging above them, followed by a grunt, supplied the answer.

"He has been discovered." Lu declared. "Recommend rapid pursuit."

"Agreed." Volya dashed ahead, and his squadmates stumbled behind.

* * *

><p>Hawkins had sighted another mace-wielding Hoganmer sentry on the climb up, and it was too well emplaced for him to subdue quickly as he'd done with the first. Using his remarkable mobility, he'd clawed up the opposite wall slowly and silently to avoid detection. Once he was up high enough, he'd then steadied his aim and made a wide leap for the wall overlooking his enemy.<p>

For his troubles, Tomahawk Foxfire was promptly and precisely shot in the small of his back while in midair. He grunted in pain and crashed to the ground well short of the mark…directly at the feet of the enemy he'd now failed to catch off guard. He risked a glance behind him and saw what had shot him down: A wall-hugging Dodge Blaster turret.

Some instinct of his suddenly screamed into his head, and Hawkins rolled away in time to avoid the Hoganmer's mace, which dented the floor he'd been lying on.

"That's enough of that shit." He growled, opening up the vents on his back. He flooded the air around him with particles of Aether Flare explosives. A half second was all the density it took to leave a thick cloud around the Hoganmer, and Hawkins leapt backwards before he detonated it. The blast annihilated the sentry, but it had warned the others in the process. The turret above him dropped down and put him in range, and began to charge a shot. Hawkins winced, knowing he couldn't avoid the blow.

He didn't have to. A powerful plasmic explosive rocketed up from the hole in the floor and shattered the wall turret apart. Curious, Hawkins looked down in time to see Goat's shoulder cannon lower from firing position, wafting a curl of smoke from the barrel. The fully helmeted sentinel gave him a quick salute, and Hawkins returned it, using only the first two fingers of his right hand.

The others appeared shortly after, with Volya bouncing off of Goat's shoulders to land in front of Hawkins. "Damage report." The Russian demanded sharply.

"Some scouring on my rear plating, but otherwise, just my pride." Hawkins muttered. "Damn thing got the drop on me."

"We are expected now." Lu observed mechanically. "The element of surprise has been lost."

"Well, then we do it my way." Goat offered. "We charge right through it."

Though he wouldn't admit it, Volya was quite pleased with the speed of their progress through the security corridor. Hawkins and Huey blazed through the gauntlet of mechaniloids and traps like men possessed: Several times, they nearly triggered laser tripwires before Volya sighted them with the infrared sensor in his eyepatch and warned them off. There hadn't been this many Mega Tortoises on the actual tower assault, but the hellish simulation more than made up for that shortage, and every one of the lumbering brutes fired motors off like their supply was endless. In one particularly effective combination, Huey unloaded a charge shot at one Mega Tortoises' head, blinding it long enough for the acrobatic Tomahawk Foxfire to leap across its back, leaving a trail of Aether Flare incendiaries around the brute. Detonating them all at once nearly broke the bulky mechaniloid in half, and gave Volya an opening to leap atop the heap and end it with one clean stab of his beam shortblade.

Behind them, Lu and Goat played cleanup, destroying every particle laser-firing sentrybot hovering above the tripwires. The immobile Raytaps barely had the chance to beep in protest before a high-intensity plasmic round from Goat's shoulder cannon or a well-placed magrifle bullet sunk past their thick armor and took them out. Goat paused as he noticed Volya staring at him. _"Hey, it's not like they didn't know we were coming. At the least, we are earning some bonus points."_

Having long ago given up on trying to fix Nils's particular idiosyncrasies, Volya shook his head and turned around. He reached up and tapped the communicator in his helmet. "Sentinel."

_"Yes, Zephyr 1?"_

"Advise a route for egress to the control room."

_"The main stairwell and elevators have been booby trapped or disabled…hang on."_ They could hear the sound of furious typing over their radios. _"It looks like there's a service elevator close by, used to transport heavy machinery. It's approximately 40 yards northwest of your position. The lift controls show that it's still active."_

Volya jumped down from the destroyed Mega Tortoise, and the rest of Zephyr Team crowded in around him. "Any resistance?"

_"More of what you've dealt with so far. It looks like they weren't expecting anyone to go that way."_

"Or they are, and this is a trap." Volya countered. Listening to the conversation on their own receivers, the rest of Zephyr Team was also dubious about the route.

"Trap or not, it is the only logical choice." Lu observed. "Zephyr 2's mass makes any other route implausible."

_"Are you calling me fat?" _Goat demanded through his faceplated helmet. He glanced to Hawkins and Huey. _"Did he just call me fat?"_

"No, he called you Shirley." Huey giggled wildly.

"Enough, all of you." Volya said in a low, warning voice. "Keep eyes on us, Sentinel."

_"Will do, Zephyr Team."_

Volya pulled his hand away from his helmet and motioned ahead of them. "Be cautious. They may have some surprises waiting for us."

A grey, flat swath of durasteel marked with hornet-striped safety zone indicators, the service lift was as unassuming as it was quiet. A lone green indicator light on the operation panel glowed steadily to itself in the stupid, content sleep of a common service machine. Volya cast a suspicious glance towards the team's chosen means of ascent. Flickering industrial lights lined the edges of the shaft up into the gloomy heights of the tower. Zephyr Team cast soft shadows bleeding indistinctly into each others' penumbra as they paced towards the elevator.

"Recommend Zephyr 2 mount the lift first, in order to ascertain its stability," Lu said quietly. Volya glanced at him. Even the stripped-down sinoroid spoke as if he suspected a trap.

Huey slapped Goat on the shoulder—by standing on his tiptoes—and chuckled, "Ladies first, Shirley." Goat rolled his eyes and started forward. A hollow, authoritative clunk announced his heavy tread onto the elevator. Uncomplaining, the lift held rock-steady. The rest of the team followed silently, except for the nervous sound of Huey's fingers rasping against the back of his helmet. Volya shot a severe—and ultimately ineffectual—glare at the pilot. Hawkins curled his lip but said nothing.

_Good. They are beginning to learn caution…even Nils._

Lu walked to the control panel and pressed the activation button. The surface beneath them hitched once before the grinding sound of long-disused gears fused with the hiss of complaining hydraulics. After a few seconds, the lift began to ascend, with only the occasional whine. Its status indicator light continued to glow green.

"Spread out." Volya commanded. "Do not clump together so. It makes the team an easier target for bombardment." The team fanned out, badly. Lu and Huey almost walked into one another, and Goat faced the wall rather than the center of the circle. Volya ground his teeth, but waited for the requisite handful of seconds it took for his team to sort itself out.

"Now," he growled. "History says that the general atop this tower was Boomer Kuwanger. Has anybody here fought a Kuwangu model before?"

A chorus of negatives wafted from Zephyr Team.

After a brief pause, Hawkins haltingly offered, "We took down the Steel Revengers outside of Cheyenne a year ago. Their leader was a beetleoid. Not exactly the same, I know, but there may be some physiological crossover."

A static crackle preceded the anxious voice of the Navigator in the team's comlinks. "_Alert, Zephyr Team! I'm getting readings of…" _The rest was unnecessary, and lost in the noise of the attack. Like a phantom, the horned reploid appeared in their midst, the telltale thrum of a close- range line-of-sight teleport system trailing him like an afterthought. Nearly as tall as Nils, their enemy was compact and crouched—a study in glancing surfaces. A pair of curved slicing blades glistened in the inconsistent light atop the reploid's forehead, like the pincers of the stag beetle for which his line had been named.

Boomer Kuwanger wasted no words, but immediately hurled his blades spinning through the air towards Lu. Volya's HUD automatically fed him diagnostic information about the weapon—electromagnetically accelerated, constructed of a light but durable alloy, replicable through the Variable Weapon system. None of that mattered as Kuwanger telejumped towards his intended victim, poised strike simultaneously with the arrival of his blades.

"Lu!" Hawkins cried, tomahawks unsheathed. Volya's shortblade snarled into shining existence, and half of the lights went out as if on cue. Painted in ghostly shades, punctuated by the sporadic bursts of misguided plasma weaponry…_who had told Zephyr 5 to open fire?_...Volya observed with almost clinical detachment as Lu leaned slightly to the side and jabbed at the incoming Kuwanger blades with his pile-driver. At the same time, Hawkins' twin axe blades cut a blurring arc though the air, connecting with…Nothing?

Kuwanger had doubled back on his telejump path, snatching his crescent blade from the air and appearing before Nils. Plasma blasts shattered chunks of permacrete from the walls, and Hawkins nearly lost his balance as he struggled to avoid striking Lu. Nils blinked in surprise, his shoulder cannon rising to bear. _Too slow. Too slow!_ With a vicious swipe of his blades, Boomer Kuwanger carved a small gash on the visor and faceplate of the Swiss reploid's helmet.

"Work together!" Volya barked.

Morgan had readjusted his aim…pointed directly at Boomer Kuwanger. And behind him stood Volya. _Don't shoot, you fool!_ Volya had taken a step forward to ward the Maverick insectoid away from his second in command, but now stopped dead. As predicted, Huey loosed a stream of plasma at his enemy, who vanished to the other side of the lift. Thought-quick, Volya batted the incandescent globes away with his saber.

"Five!" Volya roared. "Control your aim! Team with Three!"

"Oh," Huey sputtered, as he tried unsuccessfully to avoid a glancing blow from the whirling blades. "Is that as easy as 'work together?'"

Hawkins seemed to be taking it more seriously. Though he had not spoken since his outburst, he kept his eyes fasted on Morgan and attempted to herd the Maverick into his teammate's zone of fire when he had the chance. Lu stood at the ready, his mag pistols withdrawn, waiting for orders.

_Better._ Volya frowned. _Is this lift moving faster?_

_"…Not the only one!"_ Jenna's voice pierced the cacophony of combat. Volya glanced upwards and shifted his visible spectrum to include infrared just into time to see a hazy reptilian shape plummet towards him. Leap-dashing to the side, he let his blade carve a luminous blur

through the darkness. The new arrival shimmered out of all spectrums except ultraviolet, and scuttled towards Nils.

"Heads up, Two!" Volya shouted. "Sting Chameleon has just arrived!"

The next several moments passed in a nightmare of confusion. The two Maverick generals pressed their attack silently, with a savage fluidity and coordination that Zephyr Team could only envy. Even trying to work as a unit, the mismatched Hunters' attacks would often as not interfere with each other, while the steel chameleon and stag beetle dodged back and forth in a nearly invisible blur, weaving a web of lacerating steel and burning plasma darts in between them. In the standard spectrum, the rising lift and its surrounding walls were visible in patches of streaking light, from the sizzling sun-shards of Nils' shoulder cannon reflecting off the blades of Hawkin's axes to the shrieking surge of Morgan's buster and the menacing buzz of Volya's own saber. Lu's weaponfire was as understated and utilitarian as his demeanor.

For his part, Volya deflected the Mavericks' attacks with relative ease, which only drew more of their attention. _Good. Perhaps this will give the rest of the team their opening. _Instead of the coordinated strike he would have hoped for, the other four members of the team leaped forward in a disorganized charge. Morgan almost lost his head to one of Nils' blasts, and Hawkins had to perform a feat of nearly impossible acrobatics to avoid tripping over Lu.

The Mavericks vanished effortlessly from the path of attack and appeared behind Zephyr Team's ill-considered charge. Nils was the first to react, spinning on his heels with a grace that belied his size, and slamming both massive fists into the ground. The move crushed one of Kuwanger's feet into useless scrap, while Chameleon danced away unhurt. The lift groaned like a malfunctioning mechaniloid and titled alarmingly.

And then they were gone.

Zephyr Team stood silently, their labored breathing refueling their overtaxed microfusion generators. Volya glared at them for a moment, opened his mouth, and realized something alarming. The steady green light on the lift control panel had turned an ominous fiery color and now blinked spastically.

_We're going faster_, he realized with alarm.

"Work together?" Huey's voice held a note of hysteria. "Great advice, o fearless leader! Why not just order us to 'stop losing?'" Had Volya been less preoccupied with their new predicament, he might have taken the opportunity to enact some discipline.

"His order was sound," Lu observed tonelessly. "It was our inexperience as a team that led to our failure."

"If it was a failure, then why did they retreat?" Hawkins' query was just short of a challenge.

Volya gestured upwards with his still-shining blade. "Because the ceiling will do their work for them in less than half a minute." Enhanced optics had already revealed a ceiling crowded with spikes, towards which the lift was now rapidly accelerating. "Navigator," he said firmly. "Stop this elevator. Now."

His team glanced back and forth worriedly as Jenna's voice stuttered back at them.

_"I…I…just a moment. Stand by, I think I've got it…"_

Volya glanced at Goat. The massive reploid's shoulders had sagged…in defeat, or in shame for his performance? Volya suspected the latter, though he knew Nils would consider flight by their opponents a defeat. "Now, Navigator."

* * *

><p>Jenna was trying her damndest to slow the elevator and do exactly what Volya was asking her to do. Even simulated, she was having trouble, though. The Mavericks had "Strengthened" the firewalls in Karashita's mainframes to counteract her presence, a logical course of action that the simulators had taken into account. Her fingers flew over her access panel, trying desperately to keep up with the shifting passcodes via her algorithmic processors. She knew she could do it. <em>Knew it.<em> Cracking systems was what she had been trained for in the GDC at New Amsterdam. In the world of the Electrosphere, data monitoring and alteration was a playground to her. As the saying went, there was always someone better than you, but she refused to believe a _machine_, a computer designed solely to run simulations and computations without emotional thought or context, could best her.

And yet, it was doing just that. The other technicians in the monitoring room glanced over at her as the attractive technician began to swear in Danish.

"The system's not buffering fast enough." She hissed lowly. That had to be it. If she was on her personalized equipment, this would be different. If they had let her install her microsuite of programs into the simulator mainframe, this would be different. Instead, she was stuck with the slightly more sluggish Read-Only functions.

"It's not fast enough!" She repeated, somewhere between panic and angry indignance. "It's just not fast enough!"

* * *

><p><em>"I…I can't! It's too…"<em>

_Useless after all._ A growing sense of panic blossomed in Volya's chest, right in that place he had thought was empty.

"Abort!" He shouted, as the lethal ceiling rushed to meet them. "End simulation!"

The chamber dissolved and reconfigured itself in bleak tones of neutrality as five reploids crouched protectively under ghost spikes that no longer existed.

**"Simulation aborted,"** a calm synthetic voice announced to the room. **"Mission failure."**

The five warriors of the 18th Squadron all had dings and scorch marks on them after the haphazard combat. Volya was the least damaged of them, but the commander was fuming as though he'd had an arm ripped off. He glanced at them all, daring anyone to speak. Out of shame or embarrassment, nobody did. They all waited for the criticism to fall on their shoulders, for Volya to start yelling at them.

The chastisement never came. Volya merely disengaged his helmet, recalling it to storage inside his warp generator's memory. With his military haircut exposed and his eyepatch now just an eyepatch without the helmet hookups, he walked to the door. It slid open, and he retrieved his black longcoat from just outside the entry. Volya unceremoniously slipped back into his favored garment and glanced back over his shoulder.

"You are all to review this simulation and take notes on areas of improvement. I expect it on my desk by this evening."

Having spoken his peace, Commander Volya marched out of the simulator and stormed for the elevators. Sheepishly, Goat lifted up the visor of his helmet and looked to the others.

"Well, that could have gone better."

"We aren't dead, though." Huey chimed in cheerfully. "Simulatorially speaking, of course."

"That isn't a word, Morgan." Hawkins corrected Zephyr 5. The vulpinoid scratched behind his ears. "And we may as well be. Goat, how pissed was he?"

"The quieter he gets…" Goat sighed.

* * *

><p><em>Evening <em>

_Floor 5-B_

_Commander Volya's Office_

Volya was slow to adopt new technology, and even slower to adapt to it. He preferred his documents on real paper, much to the chagrin of technicians and the office staff who were so used to running things via electronic transfer to datapad that the added work gave them another reason to see Zephyr Team as an unwelcome annoyance. The Russian read through the detailed briefing of their failed Nightmare Mode simulation slowly, absorbing every detail and cross-checking it with his own memory of the incident. His black longcoat was slung over the corner of his chair, and the window overlooking the courtyard was left fully transparent, allowing the glow of harsh fluorescents from the MHHQ compound to filter in unimpeded.

The chime on his door went off. Volya's eye flickered up to it for a moment, and he grunted. "Enter." Once permission had been given, the hydraulic door released the lock and allowed his visitor entry. That visitor was Zephyr 2, the imposing Nils.

"Evening, Commander." Goat greeted him. Volya glanced back down to the simulation report, waiting for his subordinate and friend to elaborate. "I brought the notes from the rest of the guys like you wanted."

"Hm." Volya grunted again. "Very well. You may leave them."

Goat did so, dropping a stack of paperclipped pages right in front of Volya's propped hand, and a datapad on top of the papers. "I know how you prefer the feel of paper, so I went ahead and printed off everybody's but Lu's. I kept his on a datapad."

"Why?" Volya asked, leaning his chair back slightly to indicate that Goat had his complete attention.

"I doubted you wanted to read through 200 pages of hardcopy. On a datapad, you can at least skip to the relevant sections."

"200 pages?" Volya's eyebrow went up. Goat shrugged. "I may…skim…his."

"I thought you might." Goat smiled. Volya expected him to leave after that, but the larger reploid stayed behind, until the silence became painful enough that Volya finally stared at him.

"Is there something else you wanted?"

"Well, I did want to talk to you. About today."

"We performed miserably." Volya snapped. "What more is there to say?"

"I'm not interested in saying anything else. What I am concerned about is how you are dealing with it. With all of this." Goat said. When Volya blinked, he elaborated. "I'm your second in command, by your order. You have to talk to someone."

"I do not _have_ to say anything." Volya protested, but his response was halfhearted. Goat sat down, and after a few moments of thought, Volya continued on. "Individually, this team's performances are acceptable. But when it came time to put your talents to use in a scenario where teamwork is crucial, we failed. News of our failure has already made it to Dr. Cain and to the rest of the Hunters at large. For the time being, the news outlets either have not picked up on our training, or do not care. I think the latter is more likely."

"We've only been together for a day, Volya." Goat reminded him. "And it was a Nightmare Mode run. Give it time. We're getting used to each other."

"Exactly." Volya's face and voice hardened, and as quickly as the door had opened to his inner feelings of disappointment and shame, it slammed shut again. "We are not suitable for deployment yet. Tomorrow, I am starting us on a new training regimen. We will begin in the simulators in small groups: two and three man teams, and individually at your own discretion. Huey and Lu will require the most work, but you and Hawkins will need to sharpen up as well."

"I see. Should I inform the men?" Goat asked.

"If they have not seen to their repairs yet, tell them to do so." Volya ordered. "In training, as in combat, always come prepared. Let us see if they can do that much correctly."

"Very well." Goat stood up. "And…when will we be ready for action, Volya?"

The Russian gave him a hard look, and Nils realized that their bond of friendship meant very little in the face of Volya's hard outlook. "When I say we are ready."

* * *

><p><em>February 29<em>_th__, 2128 C.E._

_3:20 P.M._

'Foxfire' Hawkins was in a bad mood. Not that that was an uncommon occasion these days, as even he would admit; it had been a long time since he'd felt like he hadn't had at least two axes to grind about something around him for more than five minutes at a time. The closest he'd come had been the incident at the Hunters' bar, which he was doing his best to forget about, for more than one reason.

Not that that was easy, with every other Hunter he passed by in the halls of the HQ giving him the stink- eye. More than once, he caught himself just in time to stop from denting a few choice skulls. "Hard to say what's worse," he muttered under his breath absently as he walked toward the quarters his sorry excuse for a Unit had been assigned. "The circus I've been stuck in, or the assholes in the bleachers." Shaking his head, he opened the door, then paused; somebody else was in there, sitting on his stasis capsule like it was a bench.

"Huh?" Goat looked over, and Hawkins blinked; the massive reploid had his helmet off, for the first time since Hawkins had met him. Immediately, he could see why he didn't do so more often. Goat's features were human, technically, but no human under the sun had worn a face like that in millennia. His face wasn't so much ugly as it was unformed; it was like whoever'd designed him had skipped that part of the process, and they'd simply covered a generic skull with synthskin and buzzed blonde hair. There were other reploids out there with faces as crude as his, but theirs were obviously mechanical; the lack of any visible metal on his features was what made Goat's so eerie.

"Oh, hello, Hawkins," he said, recovering faster than Foxfire himself. Snatching his helmet off the capsule next to him, he slipped it back on, exaggeratedly casual. With his other hand, he slapped a framed photo that had been sitting on a small table next to his stasis capsule down; he'd been staring at it before Hawkins had come in. "I didn't think anybody else would be coming back here for a while."

"Nothing much to do around here when you're not shooting clay pigeons in the training room." Hawkins shrugged. "Didn't know you'd be, uh..." He paused, unsure of what to say; it wasn't often that anything happened that actually made him feel awkward. "Look, I didn't mean to... I mean, if you didn't want me to see..."

"It's fine," Goat assured him, smiling; with the helmet back on, the parts of his face that were still visible looked perfectly ordinary. "I simply don't like to call attention to it, is all. Actually, I'm glad to see you. There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about, without Volya being around." He paused. "Perhaps I could have phrased that better."

"Oh, really?" Hawkins raised an eyebrow, interested now despite his mixed feelings about the reploid who he was slowly starting to consider as the lovechild of a clown car and an armored carrier.

Walking over, he sat down on his own capsule, facing Goat. "Thought you two were old buddies. You're the last guy I'd expect to see going behind his back."

"I've worked with Volya before, yes, and thus, I know his weaknesses as well as his strengths," Goat explained. "Most notably, he's incredibly stubborn. Once he has made up his mind, he will not change it, unless something happens beyond his control to alter his opinion."

"Hey, you're the one who caught a promotion on his second day in." Hawkins snorted. "What've you got to complain about?"

"I suppose you're right," Goat agreed dubiously. "I just hope Volya made the right call."

"I don't believe this." Hawkins gave him a look. "You're griping about a promotion?"

"I'm not sure if I'm suited to such a position," Goat explained, shrugging. "To be honest, until Volya told me, I had thought that if he were going to select a second-in-command, it would be you."

"Me?" Hawkins gaped, actually caught off guard for once. "After all the shit I was giving him?"

"Volya is also old enough to be pragmatic," Goat told him. "He will do what is best for the team, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. You are the best fighter we have, aside from myself and Volya, and you're smarter than I am. The role of a number two..." He made a face. "Well, it requires intelligence, and let's be honest, that's my only weakness."

"You mean aside from having the land speed of a crippled turtle?" Hawkins cracked, half just to see how Goat would respond.

"That as well!" Goat agreed cheerfully. "Very well, let us say it is my other only weakness."

"Sheesh." Hawkins shook his head. "Does anything piss you off besides wasting beer?" Goat didn't respond to that for several moments, looking thoughtful. "Uh... Goat?" Hawkins said eventually.

"I'm thinking about it," the huge reploid told him absently. After another few seconds, he shrugged. "No, that's more or less it."

"Wow." Hawkins had to chuckle, despite himself. "Well, okay then. Anyways, there's something you overlooked. I'm a lone wolf. I don't play well with others by choice. You, on the other hand... well, you look out for people. I'd say that's more important than brains for the number two guy."

"It comes naturally to me." Goat actually looked embarrassed now, as far as anybody would be able to tell from behind the mask of his helmet. "It's not a big deal. You know, I actually had an idea to overcome my lack of speed once, but my superiors refused to allow it."

"Oh?" Hawkins went along with the change of subject. "This should be good. What was it?"

"Well, first we would need to acquire a cannon," Goat explained brightly. "Not one of the modern, high-tech beam weapons. An ancient one. The kind that pirates and circuses used."

"A cannon," Hawkins said flatly. "Okay, I know I'm going to regret this, but say we managed to find one somewhere. How does this help your speed problem?"

"Simple!" Goat raised a finger. "When we arrived at a fortified location, you guys would launch me out of the cannon, straight at them!" Hawkins waited a moment to see if he was joking. Goat beamed at him.

"You're really something," Hawkins eventually told him. "You know that? One of a kind."

"Hey, thanks!" Goat pounded him on the back, and to Hawkins' credit, he only grunted slightly. "You're a pretty cool guy as well! Let's be friends!"

"I'll think about it," Hawkins muttered, but he couldn't hide a small smile as he said it. "Anyways, you still haven't told me just what it is you wanted to talk to me about."

"Oh, yes." Goat nodded. "I forgot. I wished to speak with you about our Unit's current progress."

"What progress?" Hawkins rolled his eyes.

"Exactly," Goat agreed. "Volya is, as some dead human put it, failing to see the trees in the forest."

"Uh." Hawkins gave him another look, realizing belatedly that he'd probably be doing that a lot from now on. "Think you mean seeing the forest for the trees. And I'm not sure that metaphor even works, either."

"Oh well." Goat shrugged, unconcerned. "My point is that he's too busy accentuating the negative to realize that we are, despite our many dissimilarities, still working at above par for a Unit as small as ours. The three of us all have extensive combat experience, and are skilled enough to recognize our own shortcomings and make up for them." He paused thoughtfully. "If Volya even has any. I'm not sure he does."

"Does having an icicle somewhere between two and six feet permanently embedded in his anal cavity count?" Hawkins suggested. "I know it's there, but I keep changing my mind as to just how big it is every time he talks."

"I suppose it might, yes," Goat acknowledged. "He loosens up a little once you get to know him, though it's hard to tell. Perhaps it's simply that one learns to recognize it when he does. Back when we worked together, when we were off the clock, me and the boys even managed to convince him to come with us to this little jazz club that..." He cut off abruptly. "Well, never mind that. As I was saying, Huey may only be average on foot, but that's not supposed to be his position, anyways. I don't know much about this 'Navigator' business, but as far as I can tell, she knows what she's doing. And Lu..." He paused for a moment. "Well, Lu's learning fast."

"I guess." Hawkins scowled. "I hate to say this, but he's the only one Volya might have a point about. The rest of us, though? We're fine. Hell, we're more than fine. We know what we're doing, and he just keeps us stuck in the freaking training room all day and all night. Yeah, I know that shit's important, but so is getting your hands on some real action. How long is it going to be before we get to prove ourselves in the field, huh?"

"My thoughts exactly." Goat smiled, but this time it was a more calculating thing than his usual cheerful grin. "There are only two ways we will be able to prove to Volya that we are more capable than he gives us credit for. The first is to meet all of his demands, but that will likely take months. I would prefer the other option. Get ourselves assigned an actual job, and then go out there and kick ten metric tons of Maverick ass."

"Can't argue with that." Hawkins nodded. "Easier said than done, though, if the bossman's keeping us leashed."

"I was thinking of our newest member." Goat glanced over at the sixth bunk, where Jenna's luggage still sat; she hadn't even unpacked yet, despite having been there for several days already. "Her talent lies in information gathering and analysis, yes? Perhaps the two of us could go to her, and ask her to keep an eye out for any... opportunities."

"Opportunities, huh?" Hawkins smirked. "I like it. Of course, even if she finds one, there's still Volya to deal with."

"If we can find something that's right up our alley, then I will be able to convince Volya," Goat assured him. "The trick is to locate it in the first place. If either of us went to see Jenna alone, she might be skeptical, but if we both go together..."

"She'll know we're not just screwing with her," Hawkins finished. "All right, I'm in. The sooner we get some fieldwork, the better. Let's go see if we can find her."

"Hey, guys!" The door to their quarters opened again, and Huey walked in. "What's going on?"

"Not much." Hawkins exchanged a glance with Goat, who nodded, both of them thinking the same thing; bringing the erratic pilot along for a potentially delicate conversation behind their boss's back was out of the question. "We were gonna go look for Jenna, actually. Seen her around?"

"Jenna?" Huey blinked. "Nope! Haven't seen her in a couple of hours. Want me to come look for her with you guys?"

"No." Hawkins shook his head, standing up, as did Goat. "We'll be fine."

"Oh." Huey frowned. "Okay."

"Unpaid overtime isn't much fun," Goat told him, clapping him on the shoulder and almost knocking the wiry pilot to his knees. "Just because we have to do it doesn't mean you do. Besides, if we all go walking around in a big group, some more Hunters might try picking a fight with us like that night in the bar."

"Oh, yeah, those jerks." Huey's scowl deepened, but after a moment he shook it off. "Well, have fun." Looking around, he walked over to the table next to Goat's capsule. "Hey, Goat, your picture fell over!"

"Hey-" Hawkins started to say as Huey moved to pick it back up.

"Don't," Goat cut them off, voice completely flat and dead of all emotion, and they both turned to stare at him. The big reploid was staring at the door, and after a moment, he spoke again, in the same tone. "Leave it."

"Huh?" Huey blinked. "But then you won't be able to look at it!"

"Just do what he says, man," Hawkins told him, walking towards the door, and after a moment, Goat followed him. Unlike the screwy pilot, he wasn't surprised; the more time he spent with his new unit, the more he realized that none of them had a healthy past. Goat hadn't asked about his, though, and that was one courtesy even he could return. "I'll explain it to you later."

"Explain what?"

"Never mind."

* * *

><p>Goat's mood improved abruptly as soon as they were out of the room; in only a few moments, it was as if nothing had even happened. Fortunately, it didn't take them long to track down Jenna. The Navigator turned out to be in the first place they looked, which was at her desk in her office. She didn't look up as they approached her, but kept her eyes on her screen and her hands on the keyboard, apparently focused on whatever she was doing.<p>

"You want to do the talking, or should I?" Goat asked quietly as the two of them opened the door to the office.

"Hey, you're the personable one," Hawkins reminded him. "Knock yourself out."

"Can do!" Goat agreed, walking in. "Hey, Jenna!"

"Oh, god," she muttered before glancing irritably over her shoulder at him. "Stop. Just stop right there. For the last time, Goat, no, I'm not interested in checking out any local places with you. No, I don't want to listen to some jazz. No, I'm not going to try and get you back into that bar you wrecked before the higher-ups let you back in there. And by the way? Nine inches really isn't that impressive, especially for somebody as big as you are." Without waiting for a response, she turned back to her monitor. Hawkins raised an eyebrow.

"Once!" Goat protested, but Jenna was clearly no longer listening. Stepping back out, as snorts and giggles came from out in the hall, he turned to Hawkins, looking baffled. "Once. Honest. And that whole 'Nine-inch Nils' thing was a joke. For crying out loud."

"Maybe I should do the talking after all," Hawkins decided, walking in. "Listen, Jenna-"

"Hawkins?" She turned around to stare at him, eyes widening in fear, and when she spoke next, her words came out at a much faster rate. "What do you... okay, okay, look, whatever it is, I'm sorry already. I won't do it again, okay? I didn't do it on purpose, I promise! Just don't hurt me!"

"What?" Hawkins demanded, stunned. "I'm not going to hurt you, you-"

"All right, all right!" She shrank back in her seat. "Just keep the tomahawks put away, okay? I'm not a combatant, I wasn't designed for that! Oh, god, please, just leave me alone..."

"But-" Hawkins sputtered, noticing the angry looks he was getting now from passing Hunters in the hall. "You... I..." A moment later, the light dawned. Stepping back out again, he dropped his voice. "Is she screwing with us?"

"I would consider that to be a distinct possibility," Goat said, watching as Jenna returned to her work once more. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she was just trying to get us to go away as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, well, I do know better and I say you're right on the money," Hawkins growled.

Reminding himself that this was the only way he was ever going to see any actual action outside of a training room again within the next decade, he managed to get his temper under control and walked in a second time. "Look. Give me ten words or less, no bullshit?"

"Fine," Jenna snapped, sounding like her normal self again. "Go."

"We need your help to prove Volya wrong about us," Hawkins said calmly.

"Oh." Jenna swiveled her chair around to face them. "Well, why didn't you say so? The sooner we defrost that fossil, the better. All right, I'm listening. What's the plan?"

"Well, the way we see it, there's two ways to prove we know what we're doing, and meeting all his expectations isn't on the table," Hawkins explained. "Especially in your case."

"Considering that 'meeting his expectations' would probably be defined as 'eat a magrifle round and spare him the trouble' in my case?" Jenna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'd say so."

"Which leads us to the other option." Hawkins nodded. "Find an opportunity to get out there, whether he likes it or not, and show him and the Hunters that we know what we're doing."

"Hm." Jenna narrowed her eyes before standing up abruptly. "Come on, you two. Let's go talk about this over a soda or something." Without waiting for a response, she walked past them and out of the office. After sharing a glance, they both shrugged and followed her.

"There's a soda machine over there," Goat pointed out as they walked down a hall.

"Just keep walking," Hawkins advised him quietly. Soon, they arrived at a sealed doorway. After a few seconds of Jenna's attention, it opened, and they walked into a solid concrete room, its only contents a cheap metal table and several uncomfortable-looking chairs.

"This is one of the MHHQ's 'dead rooms,'" Jenna explained, catching their puzzled expressions as she sat down. "Which is to say, one of the only rooms guaranteed to be absolutely proof against any surveillance devices, Hunter or otherwise. We're really not supposed to be in here, but for something like this, we kind of need to talk without anybody else hearing us. It was bad enough that you two started off like that in the middle of that crowded room. We'll just have to hope that nobody was paying attention."

"Well, how else were we supposed to get you to actually talk to us?" Hawkins demanded, exasperated, as he sat down as well.

"Never mind that," Goat said in a conciliatory tone before she could respond, closing the door and joining them. "We're all on the same page now, right? What do you think of the plan?"

"I think it's unlikely, shortsighted, and in clear violation of most if not all of the Hunters' rules and regulations," Jenna replied calmly. "You realize that you're asking me to find you something that won't be covered by any other Units before we even get there. Barring some unforeseen catastrophe that ties up every other Hunter in the building at once, we're talking something that the Hunters wouldn't even be called in for. Out of their jurisdiction, or under their radar. And we'll be going in without being ordered to. I'm pretty sure Cain would not approve."

"Hey, if you've got a better plan for showing Volya up, go right ahead," Hawkins snapped. "I'm listening."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," she retorted. "Just making sure you knew what you were getting into. We'll be taking a risk with this, boys, and if you screw it up that'll pretty much be it for us right then and there."

"There is no profit without risk," Goat replied calmly. "Even I know that much. And spending the next ten years in the training room is of no benefit either to ourselves and to the world. I'm willing to take the chance."

"What he said." Hawkins nodded.

"All right, I'll see what I can do," Jenna said, standing back up. "No promises, but I'll keep my eyes and ears open, and I'll let you know if something comes up. If it does, though, you get to talk Volya into it."

"I can do that." Goat gave her a thumbs-up, which she didn't return.

"Good." Walking past them, she opened the door again. "If that's all taken care of, I'm going back to what I was doing before you two blundered my way. You might want to get out of here before somebody finds you and asks what you're doing in a restricted area." As usual, she marched off without waiting for a reply.

"You realize that if you roll your eyes and say, 'women,' you'll just be proving all that crap she gave you back when you first tried to say hi to be accurate," Hawkins said after a long moment.

"I know," Goat agreed. "Still. Tempting. Come on, let's get back to our quarters. I have a six-pack of beer there with our name on it. And Huey's, if he's still there."

"How'd you manage to sneak that in?" Hawkins asked, curious, as they left the room.

"Building strong interpersonal relationships is one of the foremost objectives for any soldier when transferring to a new assignment," Goat explained. "Even if one's new comrades are initially xenophobic, human and/or reploid nature stipulates that such an attitude will never be universal. Finding those more kindly disposed towards newcomers, and establishing a bond with them, is integral to establishing oneself as a fellow soldier rather than an outsider." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Whatever all that means. I'm not sure, but I think it boils down to knowing a guy who knows a guy. Which I do."

"Right," Hawkins said after a moment. "Do you have that little speech memorized, or

something? Because if you do, make sure you find an excuse to rattle it off in front of Lu when the whole team's assembled sometime. I want to see the looks on their faces."

"Can do!" Goat replied cheerfully. "Now let's go get that beer."

"Best idea I've heard all day."

* * *

><p><em>March <em>_3__rd__, 2128 C. E._

_8:40 A.M._

**"Simulation complete,"** the computer said as Goat stepped away from the smoking carcass of the gargantuan reploid known as Frost Walrus, and the holographic illusion dissolved around him. **"Rank: A."**

"Again?" Goat complained, head spinning slightly from the headbutt he'd delivered midway through the fight. In retrospect, that had probably been a mistake, but the cybernetic replica of the massive Repliforce Major certainly hadn't been expecting it. Shaking his head to clear it, he idly wondered if the real deal would have. Privately, he hoped he'd never have to find out; they'd only been in service for a few months, but the eight members of Repliforce's top brass were already making headlines with their overwhelming combat ability.

General. Colonel. Spider. Owl. Walrus. Stingray. Beast. Pegasus. Those were the names that were on everybody's minds these days, their latest exploits on display everywhere you looked. For a moment, Goat wondered what it would be like if Zephyr Team ever had that kind of attention, imagining Volya, himself and the rest on the cover of the reploid edition of GQ and scoring interviews with that one cute bombshell on Channel 69 at midnight.

"Naaaaah." He shook his head, chuckling. He couldn't see it. Volya had never had the time or patience for such things, a sentiment he was fairly sure Hawkins and Jenna would both share. Huey and Lu were both even more out of the question, and as for himself... no, he'd never sought out the spotlight, and he wasn't going to start now. Cleanup work behind the scenes was more his speed anyways.

"Now I just need to get some," he muttered to himself as he left the training room, a simple statement of fact without any real bite behind it. Still, he'd had more than enough of holograms for one day. Pausing for a moment out in the hall, he mentally debated whether to head back to his quarters and the case of beer he'd stashed there, or to pay the medical bay another visit. He tried not to bother them every day, since a few scratches and dents here and there weren't going to kill him, but they did build up over time...

"All members of Zephyr Unit to the war room!" The P.A. system blared, sparing him the decision. "Repeat, all members of Zephyr Unit are to report to the war room immediately!"

"Hell, it's about time!" Goat bellowed jubilantly, all of his previous thoughts forgotten in an instant. Whirling toward another Hunter in the hall, he shouted, "Hey, you! Which way's the war room?"

"And why should I tell..." the Hunter started to sneer, then trailed off, eyes widening as he actually took a good look at Goat. "I mean, just keep going down this hall all the way to the end, sir."

"I'm not a sir any more," Goat told him, shooting him a thumbs-up as he started running. "Thanks, buddy. Wish us luck out there!" He reached his miserable top speed in seconds, barreling down the curved hallway as fast as his legs could carry him, which wasn't saying much. He already knew he would be the last one there, and was determined not to make his team wait any longer for him than they had to. On the plus side, nobody seemed inclined to get in his way; almost everybody in the hall ahead of him dashed out of his path when they saw him coming, some of them actually screaming as they dove for the walls. The sole exception was one unfortunate Hunter who not only stood his ground, but drew his Buster when Goat approached.

"That's as far as you go, Maver-" he started to sneer, only to be cut off as Goat kept on going, running him down. Several onlookers winced sympathetically.

"Sorry!" Goat yelled over his shoulder. "Can't stop to talk! Orders!" Turning his head back around, he saw the doors to the war room straight ahead, and realized too late what would happen if he were to plow into them before they could open automatically. As he tried to put on the brakes, however, he watched them draw apart and relaxed, only to trip over his own feet and go flying face-first into the war room towards his assembled teammates as they stared at him.

"Incoming!" Huey shrieked as they scattered, and Goat ate carpeting.

"Nils," Volya said calmly; he was the only one who'd stood his ground. "I'm glad you could join us."

"My apologies for being late," Goat told him sheepishly, picking himself up as Hawkins, Huey and Jenna walked back over. "Hey, where's Lu? Don't tell me I beat him here." Silently, Hawkins pointed at him, and Goat looked down to see that the smaller reploid was stuck to his chestplate like a fly on a windshield. "Oops. Sorry about that, Lu."

"Pain is inconsequential," Lu replied, pulling himself off.

"Noted," Volya said dryly, turning to Jenna. "And now that we are all here, it is time to discuss why we are all here."

"Mavericks," Jenna explained, meeting his eye calmly. "A group of three-time offenders who've always run off whenever the Hunters came for them, which is how they're still alive. They're robbing a bank in Canberra, Australia, and they've got heavier gear than usual this time. Somebody must have cut them a pretty sweet deal. Local law enforcement won't be able to handle it alone."

"And this is our business why, exactly?" Volya replied harshly. "Our Unit is not yet fit for active-"

"Our Unit is one of the only ones here!" Jenna snapped, cutting him off, which caused his single eye to widen. Before he could deliver a reprimand, however, she pressed on. "It's a busy day, and nearly every other Unit is already out somewhere. The 6th, 7th and the 13th are the only ones currently on base."

"And there is a reason why none of them can handle this situation?" Volya asked, but his tone was slightly less cold now; he was listening, Goat could tell, though the look on his face suggested that he was already regretting doing so.

"The 13th could handle it, but they won't be able to get there in time," Jenna explained. "They're the only Unit with humans on the roster. They can't warp. As for the other two..." She glanced around the war room, conscious of the other staff present, and lowered her voice. "The 7th aren't good for anything but training new recruits. They go on about one actual mission a year, just to be able to say they're 'real Hunters.' And the 6th aren't much better. They're a political unit who spend all day posing for photo shoots."

"I see." Volya nodded, but his features were still cold and unyielding. "Well then, perhaps Dr. Cain will see fit to assign us this task. If he does, despite my recommendation, then we will do as we are commanded. Otherwise..."

"Uh, Volya?" Goat cut in, shooting Hawkins a glance and raising a finger to his faceplate as he saw him start to inhale angrily; one word from the fiery vulpinoid would ruin all their work. "Mind if I have a word with you, real quick?"

"Very well," Volya said icily, and the two of them walked over to the door. When the Muscovite spoke again, his voice was soft enough Nils had to strain to hear him. "This had better be good, old friend. You know my policy towards insubordination."

"Which is why I wanted to talk to you before you finished giving the order," Goat joked. "It's not insubordination if I'm not actually countermanding you, right? Look, Volya. You're right. We're not as good as we could be, as a collective Unit. But this isn't about us."

"No?" Volya raised an eyebrow.

"No." Goat shook his head. "It's about the civilians. You heard what we'd be dealing with. A bunch of amateurs with bigger guns than they know what to do with. That's the kind of situation that gets innocent people killed. Especially if local law enforcement mucks it up."

"We have not been assigned this mission by our superiors," Volya said stubbornly.

"And they're not going to assign it to us," Goat agreed. "Cain and X might be playing the polite, reasonable card, but Zero is the one who's honest about his opinion. They don't like us, and they don't trust us, so they'll hand this one over to the 6th or the 7th instead. And innocent people will die. People we could have saved. Because maybe we're not as good as we could be, but we're still better than they are."

"You know this for a fact?" Volya said quietly, meeting his eyes.

"Positive." Goat nodded. "I know you don't like Jenna, but she's right. I've seen those two Units in the training room. They're useless." He stared back, as intently as he could. "We might be a real mess, old friend. We're as motley a crew as they come. I'll admit that. But one thing we're not is useless. Any of us."

"No," Volya agreed, eyes and voice both distant now. "No, we are not. Nils, my friend, I wonder about you on occasion." He turned back to the others, and when he spoke next, his usual authority was back in his voice. "Zephyr Unit, we will be departing immediately. Navigator..." He struggled with it for a moment before relenting. "To your station. You may be of some use."

"May I ask where you're going, sir?" One of the techs asked as Jenna left the room without a word, before wilting under Volya's baleful gaze.

"Training," the Russian reploid answered, fingering the hilt of his beam saber, and nobody questioned him further.

* * *

><p><em>Canberra, Australia<em>

_9:49 A.M._

The Maverick reploids in question were a loose coalition based out of Singapore, and were known regionally as the Steel Pirates. They were responsible for three attacks around Indonesia, and were wanted for questioning in four more incidents around Oceania.

The leader of the Steel Pirates went by the name of Gault. He was a former construction model, with a large chassis, reinforced armor plating, and a mag-lock system which let him attach metallic items to his body instead of having to wear a tool belt. Though that feature was originally designed to make it easier to hold impact drills, hammers, and assorted screwdrivers and bits, it now served a darker purpose. Guns, the odd smoke and fragmentation grenade, and even a high speed electrical chainsaw were scattered over his yellow and black armor, the colors of warning in a construction site. The rest of his gang were smaller humanoid class reploids of varying classification, armed with machine guns and low-grade plasma busters incapable of charge shots. In spite of their lack of strength, or perhaps because of it, the Maverick Hunters had never sent an alpha strike force after them. There were usually bigger concerns, especially when other Mavericks preferred to go after iconic targets or hijack military grade weapons.

A bank job was a little out of their norm, and Gault freely admitted that to the others when he proposed it. Usually, they would run down merchant vessels passing through the Strait of Malacca or the Java Sea. Pirating was hardly a new concept in the waters of Southeast Asia. They had a pattern for showing up quickly, grabbing what they could after putting the fear of God into their marks, and then scattering…usually with the Regional Maverick Hunters on their heels. When they weren't at sea, they stuck to the port cities, roughing up the natives and spending their ill-gotten gains on Energen recharges, black market weapons deals, and more illicit purchases.

Canberra, on the other hand, was well situated in Australia, a country that had always done well for itself. Sydney was a regional hub for the GDC military, the Regional Hunters were suitably well armed, and it wasn't very far from New Tokyo, where the true-forged Hunters were stationed. But time was a cruel mistress, and as Gault had reminded the rest of the Steel Pirates, none of them were getting any younger, and the world was moving on. To keep pace with the times, they required upgrades, and new weapons and armor tended to cost. So a bank robbery it was. And what better than the First National Bank in downtown Canberra?

Though much of the world's major finances were now almost completely electronic, the unit of currency favored over most of the world was the GDC Standard Credit, and there was always a need for money that could be held. Once upon a time, money had been derived from precious metals, and before that, more impermanent tangibles, such as livestock. Now, as it had been a century ago, the power of money derived from the faith that was put into it. Credits, the only true international currency left after the Wars of 2090, had a lot of faith.

It had been so simple in the planning. One of the more normal looking members of Gault's crew, Prettyboy, had made the initial entrance and moved to the kiosk close by the security guard, by all appearances simply trying to open up a new account. Shortwire, the Steel Pirate's resident electronics expert, had been outside of the building, and had quickly isolated the building's electrosphere uplinks, shutting each of them down. A few more seconds, and he'd even taken out the bank's alarm system.

That led to initial confusion and irritation on the part of the bank tellers inside, who suddenly found that their ability to conduct routine deposits and withdrawals was cut off. Of course, nobody suspected anything was wrong until Gault, Vitrous, Longarm and Cavern came in through the front doors, firing rounds into the ceiling for shock and awe. The security guard, a reploid, had started to level his Buster, but Prettyboy took him out from behind with a trio of plasma rounds right at the base of the guard's neck. Clean, precise, and fear inspiring.

And then everything had gone sideways because one of the hostages had gotten cute and dialed out to emergency services. Response teams had been on the bank in thirty seconds, thanks to the reploid division of the Canberra Patrol. Their heist had turned into a hostage standoff. Shortwire had bemoaned the shortsightedness of not packing a jammer along, but there was nothing to do about it now.

Gault strolled from the back rooms of the First National Bank, where the hostages were ziptied like proper pigs waiting for the slaughter and paused just shy of the front desks. There, Vitrous and Cavern were keeping guard behind cover, ready to slag anything that came in through the front entrance. They could see the police outside: There was even a division from the local GDC base just as a point of international presence. Nothing moved towards them, due to the hostages.

The hardline phone rang, and Gault glanced to the branch manager's office, where Shortwire was holding vigil. He picked up the phone and looked to Gault, pointedly seeking whether or not the leader of the Steel Pirates would do the talking or leave it to him. After a half-second's contemplation, Gault strolled in and took the phone from Shortwire. "Well?"

_"We're working on your demands…but bringing in a military transport with the tracking beacons removed is going to take some time. The GDC technicians are telling us that it will be another two hours before…"_

"I told you one hour." Gault said evenly, knowing that the police were merely bargaining for time while they prepared some sort of rescue contingency. "And they're lying. Disabling the IF/F beacons should only take them forty-five minutes. Plenty of time left over for the quick flight from their base to here."

_"I'll tell them to speed it up, then." _The hostage negotiator promised. _"Maybe as a sign of good faith, you should send one of the hostages out?"_

"You want us to release another hostage?" Gault questioned. They'd released one at the start of this mess just to get the ball rolling on their getaway polycraft.

_"We'll give you what you want. Our only concern is the hostages."_

Gault closed his eyes and exhaled. "Very well." He motioned to Shortwire to mute the phone, and then leaned his head out of the manager's office. "Vitrous! Have Prettyboy send out one of the hostages."

"You must be joking." The slender female reploid remarked. When it was clear that Gault was being quite serious, she rolled her eyes and stepped away from the counter, moving towards the back rooms.

A few moments passed, and then one harried man in black slacks and a white shirt emerged, stumbling out with his hands still bound together. He looked at Gault fearfully, but the former construction reploid gestured to the front door. A sense of newfound hope filled the human, and he made his way for the exit. He'd barely cleared the front doors when Gault spoke again.

"Cavern?"

Responding to the unspoken command, Cavern lifted up the projectile firing machine gun in his grip and loosed a spray of fifteen bullets. They cut into the human without mercy, blowing out his insides in front of him. The man stumbled once and then collapsed in his own blood, dead on the doorstep of the bank.

Gault motioned to the now grinning Shortwire, and the technician removed the mute from the phone.

"One hour." Gault repeated, and hung up.

* * *

><p><em>MHHQ<em>

_New Tokyo, Japan_

Nobody thought anything untowards of Jenna as she strolled out of the MHHQ War Room a minute after the rest of Zephyr Team. She was classified as a Navigator, after all: An information specialist. If they had paid closer attention to the before and after, they would have noticed she left empty-handed: She'd been carrying a small transceiver when she came in, and had surreptitiously attached it to the MHHQ's hardline control box on her way out. Hidden on the back, of course.

Oh, she imagined Dr. Cain and Commander Volya would have both disapproved of the act, but then, that was why she needed the strongest possible Electrosphere uplink, and after days of examining the Network within the MHHQ, she had determined no other access point would suffice. The technicians that oversaw the MHHQ's servers kept governors on the bandwidth, so nobody could do anything too crazy. They offered a faucet. She needed a waterhose.

The elevator dinged, letting her off at Floor 5-B. Smiling to herself, Jenna strolled to her quarters and picked up her equipment, then dragged it to the 18th Unit's Commons room.

"Tis better to beg forgiveness than ask permission." She sagely observed before getting started. It took her another three minutes to unpack her things and get it set up. She had time, of course. Even teleporting, it would be several minutes before Zephyr Team arrived on station.

With a few taps at her keyboard, Jenna linked up to her rogue transceiver and hijacked the MHHQ's server bandwidth. Some additional tweaks to the MHHQ systems took care of her immediate security. She locked off the elevator from accessing Floor 5, she disabled power to Beta Corridor's doorways, and she finally erected a low-powered EM field around the same space. It wouldn't do any lasting damage, but the disruption would be enough to trigger an automatic shutdown of any inbound teleports and drop them at their initial jump point.

"No trespassers." Jenna said to herself. Now she could work in peace.

She affixed her headset and brought up the GDC's teleport monitoring array. She copied over the warp signatures of Zephyr Team from the MHHQ's database, laughing that their "Security protocol" had given her everything she needed. Sure enough, all five of them were over Indonesia, being efficiently tracked. Her clearance, earned over many months of working at the GDC's New Amsterdam headquarters also gave her access to the communications broadwaves from the GDC units on site. Just to give herself a better view, she strained her account privileges and hit up one of the spy satellites in geosynch. Overriding its protocols, she dropped it into a hover over eastern Australia and dialed the picture in.

Jenna almost started humming to herself as she worked, but settled instead for routing the comms array for Zephyr Team through her GDC satellite uplink to the response team's systems outside the bank in question. She'd be online with Volya and his boys as soon as they hit the ground.

The Navigator had to admit, she admired the gumption of Goat and Hawkins for coming up with this idea. At least now, she could do what she was here to do. Jenna cracked her knuckles and offered a feral grin. "This is my kung fu, and it is strong."

* * *

><p><em>Outside The Bank<em>

The Mavericks running the show had killed their hostage eight minutes ago, leaving the officers outside stunned and stymied. There was a fellow on the roof of the building with a high powered rifle keeping watch on them below from his covered position. In short, there was no move they could make, not with their limited resources. Not with their training. Hostage situations were one thing, but Mavericks were another entirely. Even the Regional Hunters refused to go on, citing hostage safety…and the Mavericks had made it clear with their gory killing that they weren't squeamish about busting heads open to make a point.

"Damnit, you're telling me that the Maverick Hunters aren't sending _anyone_? What do you mean, they're busy?!" The on-site commander exploded over his radio.

And then five beams of light screamed down out of the sky and exploded nearby, reforming into five reploids. Everyone nearby jumped slightly at the sight of them; a towering helmeted menace, a one-eyed stoic in a black longcoat, a vulpinoid, a humanoid that looked more mechanic than man, and one clearly distracted fellow.

They glanced around and relaxed, and the one-eyed reploid reached up and tapped the side of his helmet. "Reading you clearly, Sentinel." He turned and looked to the on-site commander, recognizing him as the person in charge. "I am Commander Volya of the Maverick Hunters. And you are?"

"Captain Mansen, GDC ground forces." The human answered. He stared at them for a moment. "I thought the Maverick Hunters weren't sending anyone to help out here."

"Clearly, that is not the case." Volya grunted. He gestured to his men. "We are Zephyr Team."

"Oh…oh, right, yeah." The GDC officer blinked as he recognized them. "You're that new joint ops team that we assigned to the Hunters."

"Yes." Volya nodded. "Apprise us of the situation."

Seeing a ray of sunshine in the middle of this mess, Captain Mansen quickly broke it down. "We have one Maverick up on the rooftop with a rifle. Maybe even maground capable. Five more inside with the hostages. They've released one and killed another as punishment for us trying to force a delay on them. Other than that, we're running blind. We're trying to get schematics from the city records department, but…"

"Not a problem." Volya cut him off. "Tell your men and the police to stay put. We will handle this."

"Are you serious?" Captain Mansen gaped. "You think you can handle this with just five of you?"

"It's more than we need." Goat called out confidently. Volya glanced back at his second in command, but withheld comment. Sentinel cut in over their radios, the watchful voice from above.

_"Zephyr Team, I overheard. I'm working on it now."_

Jenna knew that she would never have another chance to impress Volya if she failed during a proper mission. It was time to give him the works.

Canberra's Public Works Administration site was a public domain on the Network that anyone could visit to find information regarding future projects that would affect the city, criminally underused by Jenna's reckoning, noting the disappointing visitor counts and hit counts. The opening splash page, recognizing her as a reploid, had absolutely bombarded her with news about future projects that would be affecting Canberra's central districts, the highways that snaked through it, the sorts of things that people tended to act blindsided by, all available for easy viewing.

Originally, Jenna had thought to go after the bank itself for blueprints, but those nets tended to be isolated, and if not, were simply bad news to try and slip into. Nothing she couldn't handle, but the consequences for being caught were about as severe as they came, on the lines of 'burly Maverick Hunters glassing her on the spot with charged plasma bolts'. Jenna decided that so far, she didn't like Zephyr enough to risk even the possibility of that scenario. She'd go to the grave before she admitted to anyone, but the failed simulation had shaken her confidence somewhat. She also suspected that was what Volya had wanted.

There was a login field in the upper right corner of her vision, but she ignored it for now. Instead, Jenna watched as another one of her 'selves' sprinted off down another light-path, splitting into more copies with each 'fork' in the path encountered. It took seconds in real time, hours to her own perception, but results came back more or less swiftly.

** Name:** Christie Magnusson.

** Position:** Head Administrator, Logistics Department

** Login: **C_Mag .mail

** Password:** BuNNy_HuNnEy1#

_How cute, their site admin wants even wants it set up case sensitive. Just cute as a button. I want to hug him to pieces._

Jenna easily set up remote access to Ms. Magnusson's home desktop, the security on it was essentially non-existent. She'd never know an attack of any sort had occurred, and as much as the Navigator wished to do something to poke fun at the 39 year old single mother, that wasn't the objective. She'd have enough egg on her face when this was through.

Besides, this wasn't _entirely_ her fault to begin with. Hopefully, the 'cuteness' displayed by the site admin extended to his looks, but it would be much more satisfying to slap all of it off his face for having set things up the way he did. Didn't these people all know better?

Christie's log-in session was short, another sign that she was bright enough to know that at-home access to any kind of work-related server was a bad idea, but something had been important enough for her to log in and check her work e-mails: Two co-workers having sent cat image macros (and interestingly, were the first things Christie inspected in her box), an invitation to a retirement party (Jenna shuddered at the word 'retirement') for one Jeffery Marburg (age 68), and some sort of request from another co-worker regarding a time-off request to tend to the funeral of a family member. There were a few spam e-mails requesting bank account information, which managed to infuriate Jenna somewhat. Just how badly had the PWA's network admin screwed things up to not have something in place to catch something like this? After a few more minutes of browsing emails, Christie logged off the site, as far as she was concerned.

Jenna was more than in. She could very well have started to rewrite the whole site from Christie's own machine. _Wouldn't that be something to try and explain?_

Christie had left her machine on and online, her attentions now focused on gathering press polycraft beginning to circle the scene at the First National Bank. Even though as far as the single mother was concerned she'd logged off that particular network, background processes on the machine planted by Jenna worked invisibly, keeping the Navigator inside the PWA's servers. Before her virtual eyes, a virtual maze of lightpaths unfurled before her.

Back in the real world, Jenna pumped a fist into the air, baring her teeth in a grin that would have wilted a bouquet of roses. _I do so enjoy my work._

_"Commander Volya, you will have your schematics for the bank, every building around it, and everything under it within one minute."_

* * *

><p>"Sufficient." If the Russian was at all impressed by the Navigator, he hid it well. He turned to Captain Mansen. "Do we know the location of the hostages?"<p>

"Thermal indicates the ground floor, close to the back of the front lobby. They're mostly separate from the main lobby, in a room close to the main vault. We've been wanting to get closer to the building to get ultrasound imaging plates attached the building so we confirm the construction of the first floor, but there's no way to get close without being detected by the security systems. We're assuming they have a tech expert inside, since we've been locked out of anything on the inside."

"Sentinel-"

_"I'll put it in the queue."_

"Commander, we are being targeted." Lu snapped, his typical demeanor gone. The magrifle previously secured to his back was now in his hands, aimed at a distant glint atop the bank, in a motion that caused Hawkins, Goat, and Huey to back away from him. "One sniper, armament: Model M25 Koenig-Spier Magnetic Acceleration Rifle. We are within effective range."

"Lu, stand down." Volya's voice held unrestrained menace. Lu ignored him.

* * *

><p>Longarm had peered over the roof to check out the new warp arrivals at police blockade. He'd only counted five originally and thought it rather strange. Hunter units, even Regional Hunters, usually brought more men to a situation. Curious, he peered through the scope of his rifle, eager to see who it was that had been sent to intervene…<p>

And in that moment, knew fear.

While he was never purpose-built for sniping, Longarm had chosen to augment his factory-given body to make the task easier. He didn't actually require a scope. His eyes were good enough that he could zero in on a target up to a fifteen hundred feet away, if necessary. Complex (pirated) software synched with his chosen weapon, allowing him to compensate for weather conditions and shoot accurately 'from the hip' if he wanted. Recoil compensators jury-rigged into his arms would handle anything the ones built into his rifle couldn't. A scope was unnecessary for him, but Longarm felt that sniping wasn't sniping if he didn't do it the 'right' way.

Through the scope, he could see perfectly down the barrel of the rifle the short reploid had brandished. In his mind, Longarm replayed the last five seconds of his life again and again, and came to the same conclusion that by the time he'd decided to look over the ledge, that reploid on the street far below had already aimed his rifle exactly where Longarm's head eventually was. He'd literally leaned into a perfect headshot, through the scope, through his right eye, and out to the great beyond somewhere behind it.

_He's looking through me. It's like he knew I was here the whole goddamned time._

Scrambling back to safety and wondering why all of the sudden he felt so terribly cold, Longarm immediately contacted Gault.

"I don't think the Hunters sent anyone, Gault!"

"So, who were the new arrivals?"

"I think one of them is Chinese military! Hell, they all look military!"

"Wait, what?"

* * *

><p>"Hostile has withdrawn. Our presence has likely been reported to his comrades. We are compromised." Lu's stance relaxed, but his rifle remained firmly in his hands, and his gaze was locked onto the roof top. "Assuming the sniper is disciplined, he will deny us any and all possible surface entry to the bank."<p>

"That is mere assumption." Volya said. "We cannot predict anything about these Mavericks without proper intelligence."

"Precisely." Lu blinked. "Awaiting orders, commander."

* * *

><p>"He looked right at me! As soon as I peeked over the side of the building he was scoped right on me! Get me the hell off this roof!" Longarm was shouting into his communications link.<p>

"Relax, Long, ferchrissakes, they are not gonna pull anything stupid so long as we got hostages. So who gives a shit if the dude is 'Chinese military', they know how the game is played like everybody else." Gault drew in a deep breath before he shouted. "_So sit up there, sack up, and shut up_!"

* * *

><p>"How did you know he was up there?" Volya asked, already predicting the answer.<p>

"I temporarily re-established links to my unit in Wangqing, regaining access to orbital Chinese military surveillance systems."

"Against my orders." Volya confirmed.

"Yes."

For a long moment, the two reploids stared each other down, and then Lu returned his gaze back to the roof.

_"Sentinel?"_ Volya decided he would deal with Lu later.

_"Almost have what you need, Zephyr One. No, I will not interfere with Chinese military network communications. No, I will not do so even if you order me to. That's the sort of thing that gets people fired and/or disappeared. I'll reposition the sat I'm using to keep an eye on this sniper. In the meantime, I'm working. Give me more time, sir."_

_ Is everyone going to refuse orders today?_ Volya felt the weight of his decision to bring Zephyr to this bank press down upon him, wondered just how wrong Nils would be. How many innocents would die as a result.

"Commander Volya?" Captain Mansen broke the reploid out of his grim thoughts. "You may want to know that the polycraft the Mavericks asked for is ready to go, it has been for some time. One more thing, I'm to turn operational command of the situation over to you."

"You are?" Volya's one eye widened slightly, but otherwise he kept his surprise to himself.

"Orders from above." The human snorted with disgust. "I don't know what the hell my commanders are doing, but they're telling me to pull the majority of my ground troops away from the bank and leave it to you and the cops. The media blackout ends in five minutes, we're to be gone before then."

_So, we are expected to fail, on international broadcast news, no less. A macabre spectacle watched by millions by the end of the day. Look how incompetent the Maverick Hunters truly are, they will say. I am sure the innocents inside will understand that they are merely part of a charade._

He'd sung this song and dance before. He knew, regrettably, all about the game being played, the little rules that guided it. He was familiar with the concept of 'acceptable losses'. Indeed, one of the members of his new command had been designed with that in mind.

As much as Volya did not want to admit it, Jenna's original analysis of Zephyr Unit had been spot on with his own. They were pawns in a power play that was going to likely end after twenty five human lives were snuffed out. It was easy to see how it would be spun from there. He could see the tearful families on international television, accusing the Hunters of recklessly endangering the lives of their loved ones by sending an unproven unit into combat, ultimately resulting in their deaths that would undoubtedly be politicized by wealthy politicians who barely knew how the less fortunate majority of their species lived. There would be hearings, tribunals, accusations, trials and verdicts. Absorption into the GDC ranks for his lot was likely, outright disbandment of the Maverick Hunters another option depending on how hard the GDC wanted to twist the screws. A hero disgraced by association, and his super-villain hiding somewhere in the shadows, would undoubtedly enjoy the irony of the situation.

Volya knew that no matter how bad he thought things would get, there was the possibility that it would get worse.

"What sort of transport have your people arranged for these Mavericks?"

"An A/TP-55 Stormcrow, launching out from RAAF Wagga."

"Armed?"

"Fully. An unfortunate stipulation for the safe exchange of the remaining hostages, and enough fuel to easily leave the mainland to head toward God knows where. I argued against it, but it appears this was never my situation to handle in the first place."

Somewhere deep within Volya's mind, a proverbial straw broke the back of an imagined camel.

The actions of the GDC officers that ordered Mansen to fall back from the scene were feeding the speculative side of his brain, the side that was screaming at him to recall the team back to New Tokyo, while he could still keep them safe from the political machinations he believed to be in play. With military units no longer in sight, he could see these Mavericks turning the weapons on the Stormcrow against the hostages and the lightly armed and armored Canberra Police Department officers on the scene. They'd shown a callous disregard of human life only minutes before. They'd show it again if given the chance.

It would not surprise him that the external factor involved in this situation indeed counted on their violent tendencies to guide events to a specific conclusion.

_Regardless of what happens, I've questions that will be answered._

* * *

><p><em>If they'd allowed me to simulate this sort of capacity for that ridiculous simulator, I'd have made Boomerang Kuwanger commit suicide well before the ground-pounders got their hands on him,<em> Jenna thought bitterly. _Better yet, I'd have made Sting Chameleon do him, then himself. They may have been Maverick Generals, but they're practically ancient compared to any of Zephyr's combat personnel or myself. That sim was bullshit. Had to have been._

_ "But I'm not mad about it, am I girls?"_

_ "Mad isn't the word."_

_ "Right."_

The many 'instances' of her psyche returned from their assigned sectors within the PWA's data center before sprinting back into the writhing fractal mass of light in the distance. Each return brought swaths of new information that would find a new home on her external memory devices. She thought that this was possibly unnecessary, but it couldn't hurt to have the blueprints to another major city to be added to her collection. Other Jenna instances sat around the virtual office space Jenna had constructed, sifting through the data as rapidly as was possible. More instances returned from other destinations on the net, reintegrating back with the primary Jenna one at a time.

_"No luck?"_ One of the Jennas at a desk asked the last of the returning group.

_ "None. The Mavericks have cut access to all internal security cams. We tried, but you already know that. You'll have to make do with the data recovered by the others." _With a smirk, the Jenna joined her sisters and reintegrated back into the whole.

_"It'll be just fine, girls. That's what Goat wants us to believe, at any rate."_ The other Jennas around the primary giggled at this._ "Sentinel to Zephyr team, go secure and get ready for some data."_

_ "Understood, Sentinel."_ Volya responded. _"I assume you have heard?"_

_ "Do you need to ask? Commander if they get their hands on an armed transport-"_

_ "I've already formulated a plan to make use of this…"_ There was a pause, as Volya received the download. _"This is substantial."_

_ "Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get you camera access to the bank itself, so there is no telling who or what is waiting for you on the inside. Before the stand-off began, someone inside the target building got the police involved via an external line. This also triggered a response from a local GDC unit through a silent alarm. I find that hole, and the building is _mine._"_

_ "We will…improvise. Thank you, Sentinel. I will be uploading a plan of action for you momentarily."_ Volya replied stiffly, clearly not expecting to thank the Navigator for her efforts.

"Don't thank me yet." Jenna whispered to herself back inside MHHQ.

* * *

><p>Captain Mansen was leading the team away from the bank. Almost as quickly as they'd been deployed, his unit was pulling up its barricades and preparing to fall back behind the regular police lines.<p>

"This is almost too much data." Hawkins shook his head. "It _is_ too much. How many possible contingencies could these Mavericks have?"

"Assume they know everything we know," Volya said quietly. "Prepare for the worst, never assume events will play out in your favor. Further questions?"

"None."

"Then let us begin. Primary objective: Rescue the hostages. Secondary: Eliminate all Mavericks. Our situation: They are inside the bank, which we now have schematics for. At this time, our Navigator has been unable to access internal security systems to determine the exact locations of the hostages or the Mavericks. To counter this," Volya turned to Lu. "I am authorizing limited use of your unique resources to attempt to pinpoint general target locations."

"Yes sir." Lu's expression blanked for a moment as he accessed the satellites. "Commander, the Maverick sniper does not appear on thermal imaging from the current available orbital platform, currently tracking him on standard visual spectrum. Heat signatures within the bank appear grouped in an area close to the vault, according to schematics. However, individual signatures are not distinguishable at this time. It is safe assume the hostages make up the bulk of the massed heat signatures."

"If the sniper is running cold, then the others might be as well." Hawkins chimed in. "At most, they'd only need one reploid to guard the hostages. The others could literally be anywhere in the building." The Vulpinoid glowered pointedly at Captain Mansen. "For a buncha pirate losers with supposedly out-of-date equipment, that's decidedly modern."

This was a potential line of questioning that Zephyr team did not have the time for, much less the hostages. If they were committed to the mission, they would have to leave this for later inquiry.

"Zephyr Five." He spoke loudly enough that it startled the entire team.

"Boss?" The pilot meekly replied, shrinking away from the Russian despite not having been approached physically.

"I have need of your unique talents."

* * *

><p>"Boss, if Long's right-" Cavern began to protest.<p>

"Look, this doesn't change anything!" Gault's exasperation with his team was growing by the second. Sure, they'd always had the opportunity to run when things had gotten hot before. Not once had they ever engaged the Hunters or any local military assets in protracted standoffs like this, nor had they ever been denied an expedient exit. They'd never allowed themselves to be pinned down like this. That the day had been full of some very unfortunate firsts did not strike Gault as a good reason to start acting like frightened amateurs on their first job.

"Have you even looked at these assholes?" Shortwire hissed, flipping the LED display he was sitting at around to face Gault. The security cameras outside of the bank caught the Hunters on the outside, clear as day. "The big guy with a cannon the size of ME? The dude with a goddamned red star emblazoned across his left shoulder? Or how about the fox reploid? Didn't we hear about these guys the other day?"

"It's that Zephyr Unit the GDC had a dog and pony show about the other day." Vitrous, bless her reactor-heart, was still showing the cool and cruel professionalism that had endeared her to the team in the first place. "Political unit, at best. If you really think these people are being let off the leash, you need to find a new line of work."

Staring at the display, Gault took a deep breath, calming himself before replying. He was regretting shouting earlier. The hostages could have heard the nervousness in all of their voices, and that might inspire them to acts of bravery or stupidity.

"Thank you, Vit. At least someone else has their head on straight."

"Just sayin', boss."

"They could be Special Forces for all we care, and they can't do a damned thing. We have hostages, and maybe we ought to remind them of that. Give me an external speaker, anything that transmits loud and as far as possible preferably. We're still on a media blackout, aren't we?"

"Not for much longer, boss." Shortwire didn't seem all that convinced by the bravado on display, but wasn't brave enough to press his concerns any further.

"Then let's break it for them. Find me an external net connection to any local news agencies that are trying to cover this story, and lemme say hi to the world."

* * *

><p>Piggybacking off of Lu's own connection to the Chinese satellite network (justified in her mind as not being interference, and therefore safe to do), she'd been able to watch the bank from a different angle. Combined with her own surveillance on the networks not totally locked out by the localized EM barrier, she was able to paint a very complete picture of everything around the bank, which stood out in her visualization as being a black hole amongst a sea of connection requests snaking out from the area outside of the barrier (half of those being her own requests).<p>

But suddenly, a single mote of light shone forth from the bank, reaching towards the outside world it had been isolated from.

_I got you. Got you got you got you. Now gimme those cameras, if you'd be so kind._

Shortwire did notice subtle interference as he connected the computer directly to a Sky News broadcast station, but attributed it to the interference that made use of the warp network impossible. It was a hardline connection, and there was always the potential of it being used against them. As a precaution, he isolated the internal security cameras from as much of the network as possible, assuming they could be used against them if he hadn't taken the precaution. If there was someone in the world who could re-enable access to those systems through this temporary and very short-lived exploit that he was creating and monitoring for himself, all without his knowledge, it'd have to be a monster on par with the legendary Mavericks he idolized, or worse.

Said monster was failing to control her laughter in a small locked office somewhere inside MHHQ New Tokyo while doing just that.

* * *

><p>"…so I dunno what sort of bullshit powerplay you people think you're going to pull, but I highly recommend these Zephyr Unit clowns back off. There's no scenario where their intervention doesn't end with a lot of dead hostages splattered live on international television." Transmitting footage directly from his own field of vision, he made certain to pan slowly across the gathered hostages. Cavern and Vitrous made a good show of pressing guns to the heads of several of the hostages, eliciting the desired yelps and wails of fear from the whole group.<p>

"The GDC golden boys stand down, or we take the money out of this bank vault, and we replace it with the pieces of these people that we leave behind." Drawing a line across his neck, Gault ordered Shortwire to kill the data feed. It had been a good show.

"Gawd, boss. I'm a believer." Vitrous licked her lips. "We should do 'em now."

"As long as they're still useful to us, they hafta survive. But Prettyboy? Rig 'em up with the remote charges, and stand guard next to 'em. Just in case. The rest of us have the lobby, in case our Hunters are as dumb as the big one out there looks. Long?"

"Yeah boss?"

"You holding up?"

"Y-yeah boss. They're all moving away, a little quicker than before. I see a transport coming to escort 'em off, LAV, Type 32 Custom maybe? Dunno how the fat one is going to climb in though." The sniper chuckled, some of his bravado returning.

"Y'see? Just like I said. All they needed was a push in the right direction."

* * *

><p>"I'm being ordered to get you out of the area by vehicle. Now. I assume we all paid attention to that last broadcast?" Captain Mansen's mood threatened to remain perpetually glum, pointing to the troop transport that was rolling towards them. He was the first aboard as it pulled up to him.<p>

"I'll, uh, I'll just keep pace with it." Goat sighed. Curiously, Lu did not join the others, but instead jogged alongside of the transport next to Goat.

"Our plan has not changed." Volya maintained his command presence despite this apparent setback, turning to Huey as he and Hawkins climbed into the LAV. "Zephyr Five, you are to commandeer the Stormcrow being prepared at RAAF Wagga. Go now, I have already transmitted my command override authority to the base. By GDC regulations, Hunters are able to legally acquire military or civilian transport as necessary during an emergency."

"And this counts as one." Huey sounded unusually restrained and disciplined. "I'm gone, sir." He warped through the roof of the vehicle without a snide or otherwise off color comment.

"Hawkins and I will use a path indicated by Sentinel to approach the hostages from below via an underground car park." Volya continued. "Goat, you and Lu are assigned to the front entrance. Breach by any means necessary. The schematics and satellite readings indicate the hostages are not in immediate danger to any of the weapons you both possess."

"Understood, Commander." Goat nodded once, his game face on, his combat helmet firmly in place.

"Confirming we are no longer within range of external surveillance methods the Mavericks have at their disposal." Lu motioned for Goat to stop running. "We will hold position here for one minute, and then approach the target structure."

"What?" Volya gasped, leaning out of the still open LAV door with a look of incredulity on his face. "No. Stand down Lu."

Lu's own face had disappeared behind a featureless bullet-like helmet. His color scheme had shifted dramatically. No longer did he wear the colors of a test unit. His armor had shifted to a gunmetal gray, with portions of it opening up to reveal a series of lenses across his heavy chest armor. "Combined with Sentinel's own capacity for electronic surveillance and infiltration, and this holographic generation system, we will be undetected.

"We will?" Goat asked, just as he and Lu vanished from sight, replaced by a reasonable recreation of the area he and Lu occupied.

_So, even the Lu-series have secrets similar to my own. That was not in any documentation I received from Sentinel or headquarters._

"Commander Volya, please inform Sentinel that if she should need to use the surveillance networks I access, she only need ask for permission."

Climbing back into the transport fully, the Russian sat down heavily, the beginnings of a smile forming on his face. It did not go unnoticed by Hawkins.

"This is moving a bit faster than I expected." The vulpinoid leaned forward. "Look, even with magic tricks like that, even with Sentinel watching over us, there's a mag-sniper covering that whole area. They get spotted, they get slagged, and so do the hostages."

"We could all die in the next few minutes. My concern is firmly with the hostages. They cannot fend for themselves. We can."

"Fair enough."

* * *

><p><strong>RAAF Base Wagga, Australia<strong>

"She's awful big to have 'Attack' somewhere inside the name, ain't she?" Huey asked the technician sitting next to him in the cockpit of the Stormcrow. A tilt-engine polycraft like the 'Crow wouldn't normally rate the designation, but there was a good reason why they'd added 'Storm' to the name of this variant.

Everything about the big and bulbous craft looked wrong. It didn't look like it could reach Mach two, but it could and was going to in the next few minutes. Nothing about its external appearance suggested a capacity for extreme violence, and certainly it had no proper external hardpoints to mount anything significant, but that was only because its weapons were typically buried within its hull until they were needed. The Stormcrow was big and ugly because it needed to be, designed to quickly deploy troops and supplies into a hot zone, and then loiter in the area and provide close air support until dedicated fighters or drones could be put on station. The Australian government was likely strong-armed into offering such a thing to the Mavericks.

"Have you flown one of these before?" The tech was clearly nervous around Huey, but there wasn't much she could do about it. She'd been told by her superiors to give this particular reploid what he wanted, when he wanted it.

"Nope, I'm a virgin when it comes to Stormcrows." His grin had a madness to it that made the tech want off of the machine right away, but that wasn't an option. The engines were already spinning up, a serious suction hazard, and Huey was already rolling the craft out to a cleared VTOL pad. "Hey Sentinel? Y'mind uploading an operations manual for an AT/P-55?"

"Who is Sentinel?" The tech, being human, didn't get to listen in to Zephyr Unit's network transmissions.

_"You're scaring the poor woman half to death."_ Sentinel was quick to admonish the pilot.

"She'll be just fine…" Huey leaned closer to the tech in an exaggerated manner, pretending he could not read her name patch from afar. "Osborne'll be just fine."

"Will I?"

_"Will she?"_

"About as fine as you might expect us to be when we're getting ready to fly at a sniper armed with a mag rifle. If he's good, he'll slag me through the canopy the moment I present him a target. Go tumbling into the city if the auto-stabilizers don't take over. They haven't evacuated the operations area have they?" Again, he'd shifted from his joking demeanor to something cooler, more professional. "Upload received, Sentinel."

_"Good hunting, Zephyr Five."_

"Roger roger, good hunting." He frowned. "Good hunting. Huh." The radio had men from the control tower shouting over the disregard to proper procedure, quickly muted with a stab of a button. "Mmmkay, Osborne, what do we have for armament?"

"Four Phlanga Mark 12 Anti-Material micro-rocket pods on conformal wingmounts." Simply being asked to recite what the polycraft was loaded with was enough to get the woman to visibly relax. "Full load of 30 mike-mike for the chin mounted auto-cannon, four Shock Gel canister launchers on the conformal fuselage mounts-" The Stormcrow shuddered around them as its engines, pointed to the horizon at their backs, grew louder, pushing it through a turn much sharper than should have been taken. The landing wheels chirped and squealed against the tarmac as the polycraft lunged forward.

"Did-did we just _drift_ away from the hangar-"

"Shock Gel?" Huey asked grimly, suddenly on edge.

"Yes sir. Originally the plan was to insert an MSWAT team into the bank for hostage rescue, and this craft would have provided overwatch to help cut off the Mavericks if they attempted to escape on foot. The gel would have been used-"

"I know what it does," Huey said. "I suppose they deserve it. Zephyr One, Five. I'm mobile and headed your direction." After a long moment with Volya not responding, Huey shrugged. "Welp, that was fast."

_"He's not going to respond, Zephyr Five,"_ Sentinel informed him. _"None of them will. Can't risk getting branched, after all. He did have a message for you, though?"_

"Oh yeah?"

_"The raid starts with you taking out the sniper. In that time, the team will have arrived at their positions."_

"On my go? Really?"

"Huey, ah, sir, we are running out of runway rather fast-" Osborne spoke rapidly, pointing emphatically into the distance. "This is a VTOL field for Gods-"

"I got it, I got it-" He pulled back hard on the controls, the Stormcrow surprising him by deftly following his command. The polycraft nearly went vertical before he corrected, almost overcorrecting into the ground before he stabilized. "Woops."

_"Are you doing this on purpose!?" _"Are you doing this on purpose!?" Sentinel and Osborne both shouted.

"On my go, Sentinel? You're serious about this?"

"_Yes, on your bloody go!"_

"Well then, here we go." Huey slammed the throttle forward, and the Stormcrow's engines sang, the polycraft surging forward and pressing him against the cushions of his seat. "Osborne, confirm the airspace is clear around the target."

"There are press vehicles in the air and on the ground. You can't fly this fast over populated areas, it's against regulations-"

"So you're telling me that the civilians will be maintaining safe altitude over and away from the situation, as per press blackout protocols?"

"The press blackout has been lifted, sir."

"Well, they're not gonna be flying as low as we are, so that's cool." Huey smirked at his reluctant co-pilot.

"Pardon?"

"You ever fly nap-of-the-earth before?"

* * *

><p>Jenna had repeatedly assured Volya and Hawkins that she was currently "dominating" the local security systems, that it was safe for them to be inside the car park that had been designated one of their best chances to infiltrate the bank. Her choice of words had raised their eyebrows. The giddiness in her voice suggested they could trust her as far as the bank was concerned…but neither man felt comfortable commenting about anything beyond that.<p>

"She was such a nice girl when we met her." Hawkins finally broke the silence between himself and his commander.

"Indeed," was all Volya allowed in response.

They had walked directly in front of an intelli-cam, at Jenna's request/orders, and saw nor heard any discernible changes to their surroundings, and she reported that nobody inside the building had lost their lives.

"_Image feedback loops are for amateurs. I'm editing the video in real-time. Their so-called tech expert thinks he's got all the keys to all the doors in the whole structure. Little. Does. He. Know. Be sure to tell him I said 'hello', if you'd be so kind."_

The two Hunters exchanged a look.

"We will send him your good tidings, Sentinel." Volya said. "Can you place a waypoint that gets us below the hostages?"

"_Done. In ten minutes, I can directly stream to you the security feeds that show you the precise locations of the Mavericks in real time without compromising the operation. It's worth noting, sir, that the Mavericks have rigged what appears to be high explosives in the middle of the cluster of the hostages. Based on what I've been able to observe, your first customer is the trigger man."_

"Damn them." Volya growled. "You have relayed my orders to Huey?"

"_Yes sir. On that note, I may not have the time to set up those data streams. At his current airspeed he will be in the operational theater in roughly eight minutes. Sooner, if he'd take a more direct flightpath. I believe he intends low-altitude navigation through the city streets."_

Volya considered having Sentinel route him a secure connection directly to the pilot to inform him that such a plan was far from acceptable, or have the navigator relay the message herself, but was certain Huey would not take orders from her. It was also time he did not want to waste. At this point they were committed.

"I will reprimand him in person following the outcome of this operation. We will combine the schematics you have given us with realtime HUD markings of our targets. Can this be managed?"

"_You ask the most inane things of me. Not that I'm complaining, it's less complicated overall doing it your way. Less chance of detection, even an idiot can get lucky."_ Seconds later, outlines of the Mavericks appeared in Hawkins and Volya's vision. For the moment they were still relatively far away, but if the outlines were detailed, moving in sync with the Mavericks as they idled near their apparent assigned positions. She'd even gave them ID tags based on conversations she'd overheard. Prettyboy was the closest to Volya and Hawkins. Gault, the apparent ringleader, had been given a crown next to his name. Cavern and Vitrous, closest to the front entrance.

The hacker, Shortwire, had (DUMBASS) after his name.

"_The rooftop sniper has no direct feeds on him other than our satellite surveillance platforms, and the network encryption on those systems is making it impossible to guarantee up to the second markers on him. We're talking five to ten second delays based on the speed of the systems here at MHHQ and that of my decryption software-"_

"You have done well, Sentinel." Volya interrupted the navigator. "It is up to us to not squander what you have afforded the team."

"_I recorded that. So you know, sir." _Jenna broke the link a moment later.

"Our first target is up ahead, Commander. Fifty meters, right above the premium parking spaces for the execs." Hawkins had taken point, his movements cautious despite the assurances from the voice in their heads. "They'll have weight sensors, basic theft deterrents these days. Between you and I, we'll definitely trigger those."

"Sentinel will handle them." He pointed at the roof above them. "Your Aether Flare. I want to use it as a shaped charge on a section of the roof surrounding the general vicinity of the Maverick, in order to bring him down to us without harming the hostages. Can it be done?"

"Hell, I sure can try, it'll take me some time to get it set up. I don't think I've ever done anything this…fine under duress though." Hawkins gripped his tomahawks, twirling them idly. "I suppose we'll find out. What if he moves out of the target area?"

"Leave that detail to me. You have less than seven minutes before Zephyr Five is in position. I need you to have this ready with time to spare."

* * *

><p>Nils was not used to creeping forward as slowly as he was, in broad daylight, a small Chinese reploid on point out in front of him. Yet there he was, and forward he crept. The sidewalks were empty all for blocks around them, sirens filled the air, and there was a sniper capable of taking their heads off many floors above them. This felt incredibly wrong for the large reploid, and he wasn't embarrassed to admit that he was quite nervous. A small half dome, barely visible, enveloped both Hunters as they advanced on the front entrance to the bank. Everything outside of the dome was 'off' in some way, shimmering from the effects of Lu's holographic generators.<p>

"They really can't see or hear us?"

"No, sir. It is a direct result of combined effort between Sentinel's electronic warfare capabilities, hyper-resolution holographic field generation, and satellite imaging. It is not perfect, but nothing observing us from the bank will be able to detect us for the moment." Lu turned to face Nils, still marching towards the bank. "You are concealed, sir."

"You say so." Nils appreciated Lu's attempts to reassure him that they were fine, but his odd featureless helmet made his words less comforting.

"Serious tactical error on behalf of OpFor," Lu continued. "Would have placed sniper for overwatch on different building, possibly used a therm-optic sheath for concealment, rendering this plan difficult if not completely unfeasible."

"That all sounds a lot more subtle than what I saw you- your brother attempt in the simulator the other day."

"The conditions specified did not require the use of these features. After consulting with the collective Lu-series, we determined that certain features be kept on standby for that scenario."

"He died because of that. Doesn't that bother you?"

"No."

"Okay..." Nils decided to hold off pressing the subject any further, but he did detect how Lu's voice changed when discussing his 'family'.

Eventually, the pair reached the foot of the stairs that lead up to the bank's front entrance, and Lu held up his right hand, making a fist.

"We will have to make our assault starting from here. I cannot guarantee consistency of the holographic projection on this stairway." What that meant was they would still have to clear fifty feet to reach the barricaded front doors, which meant if they were detected by the Mavericks, they'd likely be taking fire before they even got to the doors.

_"Ah, hell. Vol- Zephyr Lead. We're more or less in position. We're waiting on Five to start this thing."_

_ "Acknowledged. We are in position and making our preparations now."_

"Now I don't mean to sound pessimistic Lu, but I'm not quite as fast as you."

"You are fast enough and easily stronger, sir. Shall we begin dividing targets?"

A timer appeared on the HUDs of every member of Zephyr team about to assault the building, counting down the minutes and seconds until Huey arrived on station. There was a lot less time remaining than Nils had anticipated. It made him nervous, but at the same time he felt some relief. He was going to be a lot happier when he didn't feel like he was standing out in the open waiting for someone to shoot his ass off.

"Howzabout I mash the guy on the left, and you get the one on the right? Doesn't look like there's any hostages to hit near the other two. The one in the center looks like a ringleader, he's nowhere near the doors. Probably a coward, we can take turns with him. The other is apparently their-"

_"Don't you dare call him a hacker, Zephyr Two,"_ Sentinel interjected._ "That would be insulting. He doesn't appear armed, from my footage. The other three look quite dangerous. I'll send you images of what I think they have for weapons."_

"None would ever be intended, Madame Sentinel." Nils chuckled. "So he's their techie, let's assume that at best he has a Buster, we can leave him for last. The other three must go down hard first. The one by the hostages should be handled by Hawkins and Volya. How's that sound, Lu?"

"Kill order confirmed. Breaching method?"

"This," Nils pointed to his bazooka, "and this," he pointed to his left shoulder's armored pauldron.

"Ready." Lu crouched low, as though he was on the starting blocks of an Olympic sprinting event. Nils did likewise, though somewhat more awkwardly.

"There's no way for you to project that holographic field to cover my advance, is there?"

"No, sir. Will make necessary requests for improving that system after the mission is successful."

"Well then, let's make this quick so you can get on that." Nils switched his own helmet into combat mode. The timer at the corner of his HUD read two minutes. "Loading HE munition, ready to breach."

* * *

><p>Longarm had been hearing the roar of jet engines in the air for the last few minutes, but hadn't been able to locate the source. He attributed this to his superior hearing. There'd been jets flying overhead all day, and long after they'd passed by, he could hear them even over the horizon.<p>

This roar sounded different. He swore it sounded as though it was being 'piped-in' between the buildings. It was also getting closer.

Then there was the high pitched ringing he'd started hearing not long after the local GDC units had backed off under Gault's demands. At times, the ringing buzzed before resuming its steady pitch. He thought he'd even heard footsteps, or something eerily similar, coming from the streets below, a sound not unlike that of a ride armor. It didn't come with the other sounds he associated with something like that. Just the ringing and the occasional buzzing.

The roar of the jet engines was growing louder. Closer. It was starting to overpower everything else.

"Hey boss! I think our ride is coming!"

"I barely hear you!" Gault complained over their comm net. Strangely enough, his voice sounded distorted from interference that hadn't plagued them all day. _Shortwire's getting' sloppy._

"I said 'I think our ride is coming!'"

"Finally, get your ass down here, I'll have 'em meet us out front." Now it was Longarm's turn to shout back.

"I didn't catch that!" Shaking his head, he began cleaning up his perch, ensuring he was leaving nothing behind for the authorities. There hadn't been much call for his sniping today, and part of him was disappointed by that fact. The other part was happy that he hadn't been forced to make himself a bigger target than he already was on his lonesome. Unlike the rest of his comrades, Longarm held no delusions over how "awesome" he thought he was. He might have been a match for local police, or even MSWAT sharpshooters. Hunters or military units didn't play by the same rules. They had access to real toys. Therm-optic cloaks, fancier rifles, full access to local or satellite surveillance. Even Shortwire at his best couldn't manage that last item consistently, and everything else was prohibitively expensive to acquire, not to mention easier for law to track.

But perhaps after today, that wouldn't be the case.

The jet engines were even louder now. He could even start to make out the creaks of an airframe, the sound of servos moving control surfaces.

_The hell is that?_

From between one pair of taller buildings, tilting violently in the opposite direction it was traveling, was an AT/P-55 Stormcrow, coming in hot and fast. It barely avoided scraping against another building as it righted itself, bearing down directly at Longarm, whose vision focused entirely on the gunship as it closed in. He could make out the nose mounted gun, pointed right at him. The various conformal weapon pod mounts on the wings and fuselage, opening wide and revealing their payload. He saw the pretty human co-pilot, sweat drenching her face, a look of unrestrained terror on her face.

He saw the reploid pilot, left hand held up for Longarm to see, middle finger extended and wagging back and forth, the reploid mouthing something he couldn't hear, but could easily make out.

_We win._

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAULT!" the Maverick screamed as he began to raise his rifle in defiance, just as a small puff of smoke extended from the Stormcrow, directly at him. He felt something cool yet oddly warm slap against his chest plating and neck. The world turned white, and he felt nothing save for the worst pain he had ever experienced. He could not feel the grip of his rifle melting to his right hand. He could not hear the weapon fire six times involuntarily. He could not see those six rounds bury themselves ineffectually into the rooftop. After seconds that felt like years passed, he sensed nothing more.

* * *

><p>This is the last minute of Gault's life.<p>

For a long time, he always imagined his life ending after a heroic shoot out. It was a fantasy he did not share aloud with the others of his gang, but it was something he was positive they all shared. If they had to die, it would be them at their best, giving it their all. They wouldn't die cowards. They wouldn't die afraid. They would be proud Mavericks who embraced all that their actions would eventually bring down on their heads. They would take some of the bastards down with them.

The roar of jet engines hadn't gone unnoticed. In fact, it had prompted curiosity on behalf of Cavern, who'd crept close to one of the windows, moving aside one of the curtains to look at what was causing the sound. This prompted Vitrous to snap at him, demanding that he "get his ass away from the windows" before she shot him herself. He'd started to insist that things were fine, and that was when his voice caught, and he pressed himself against the glass, straining to see what was outside.

"The hell are you doing, Cavern? You should listen to Vitrous-"

"Boss I think something is outside!"

"Like what?" Gault had asked. "The fucking clouds in the sky? The birds in the trees?"

"Something doesn't look right just outside the door, I swear I see somethin' out there!" Cavern usually didn't sound nervous. None of them ever did. They'd all played "Mecha-Pirates of the South China Sea" for long enough that 'practiced bravado' was almost their default state. Of course that had all gone to pot when they'd gotten themselves mixed up in this mess.

And so, Gault had begun to walk his way over towards the door, fists and teeth clenched, silently counting to ten to control himself, when the sound of jet engines had grown impossibly loud, and the windows in the front of the lobby rattled violently. Cavern leapt back a whole ten feet, leveling his machine gun at the door. Vitrous stood her ground, several paces behind Cavern.

"Boss, something's up with the security system, I-" Shortwire had to shout to be heard over the noise.

That was when Longarm's scream was heard over their internal network.

The front door exploded inward, causing everyone in the room to recoil back, Shortwire almost falling out of his seat. Gault had raised one hand to protect his face from flying debris.

Another explosion sent dust and debris through the open door to the room where all the hostages were being kept.

"HUNTERS!" Gault roared, bracing himself for combat, but still partly blind from the door explosion.

Two figures rushed through the tattered remains of the front entrance, one small, one massive, the large Hunter they'd been cracking jokes about. Each step he took caused the room to tremor, and he closed in on Cavern as the Maverick leveled his machine gun to open fire. He got a short burst off that was completely off target, and then came the sickening crack of his head meeting the shoulder of the big Hunter, his body thrown down so violently from the impact that he essentially cratered the tile floor, before bouncing back up into the air, trailing pieces of himself and vital fluids. To Gault's perception, sped up as it was, it appeared as though Cavern had hung in the air for a full second, before the Hunter drove a massive fist directly into his face, into his control chip on the forehead, crushing the Maverick's head flat. All of it done in one smooth motion.

And the Hunter continued forward, making his way directly towards Gault and Shortwire. Neither Maverick had even started to raise their weapons in defiance.

In that moment in time, so focused he was on Cavern's death, when his eyes had darted back to Vitrous, he'd missed what exactly it was that had happened to her, only that her legs stood in one place, and her upper body, severed from the rest at the belly, spiraled off to Gault's right. Her murderer stood with a fist firmly planted in a portion of her lower half. The fatal instrument: a fully extended pilebunker spike. He hadn't heard Vitrous fire her mag-pistol, but he saw that she'd fared somewhat better than Cavern had. The Hunter's helmet had been partially blasted away, revealing half of his expression. A lifeless eye stared through the carnage directly at Gault.

At least he believed Vitrous had died instantly. Then her upper half hit the ground and was tackled by her assailant, dark purple reploid blood sprayed from her mouth as she gurgled and wailed in agony, struggling to push her assailant off her body as they slid across the tiling. The Hunter clad in gunmetal gray gripped her by the throat with his left hand while the right was raised upward, the pilebunker retracting back into place with a hiss. There was a moment where he adjusted his aim, preparing to finish the job. The Hunter looked down upon Vitrous with all the deference that a boot showed to an ant just before crushing it.

"GAULTHELPME-" she managed to screech, just before the piledriver came down on her control chip.

Behind Gault, Shortwire uttered a single yelp of terror. He whirled around, finally bringing up his left arm and converting it to a buster, just in time to see Shortwire's right arm drop free from his body. Stuck partway into his chest was a tomahawk.

_Wheredidthatcomefromwhattheh ell-_

He saw the vulpinoid observed earlier, already covered in reploid blood.

_That can't be Prettyboy's itjustcan't-_

He held a second tomahawk in both hands as he moved in for the kill, the weapon raised high overhead, a feral roar issuing from his open mouth. Shortwire managed to bring up his remaining arm in a feeble and useless attempt to stop the tomahawk from crashing down directly on to his forehead. The weapon sliced easily through the arm, and buried itself deep into Shortwire's head, almost down to his neck.

"BASTARDS!" Gault's cry was strangled, his body shaking as he fired in retaliation, throwing off his panicked burst of buster fire as it went wide of the vulpinoid by at least three feet. In his right hand, his own mag-pistol barked twice, and he managed to only shoot Shortwire's corpse as it fell towards the ground. The vulpinoid had danced back several paces, tearing his weapon free from Shortwire. His face was a mask of fury directed entirely at Gault.

This was not the way it was supposed to go.

This was not how he envisioned things.

This just wasn't _possible._

These Maverick Hunters could not be so skilled, so powerful, so brutal. Sure, Gault and his crew had all come from civilian walks of life, but they'd done heists that had earned them enough money to purchase black market mods. They were better than the average jackhole Maverick who got started by swinging around a I-beam on a construction site.

_We couldn't be so weak. It's not possible. It's not _fair.

He did not want to believe that he had consigned his friends to needless deaths against the insurmountable.

_I don't want to die._

He aimed his weapons at the vulpinoid, snarling and cackling all at once, a high pitched ringing and buzzing in his ears.

_I don't want to die._

Green light momentarily flashed in front of his eyes. **ALERT NERVE CONTACT FAILURE / **scrolled across his vision.

_I don't want to die!_

Eyes widening with horror, he watched as both of his arms, severed just past the elbow, fell free towards the floor. The electronic nerve endings in both his limbs triggered several shots from the buster and mag-pistol, destroying some tiling, part of a desk, and one of the light fixtures mounted on the roof.

Something heavy clasped firmly onto his shoulder, spinning him back around just in time to see Vitrous' killer standing up from her corpse, her head suffering fractures in dozens of places, a perfect round hole at the center of her forehead burrowing through to the floor. And now Gault faced his own angel of death just as the pain from his severed limbs registered.

He was taller by at least two feet, so it seemed, and his long black overcoat still flapping in the air appeared to Gault as a singular dark and twisted wing. His one eye gazed down upon the Maverick, and the Hunter snorted with contempt. In his right hand, a green shortblade-class beam saber was drawn, and already coming down towards his face. The Hunter mouthed something Gault could not understand.

_I DON'T WANT TO-_

* * *

><p>"Sniper's down." Huey had reported laconically over the tac-net.<p>

That had been the signal for Hawkins to detonate his hastily erected Aether Flare field in order to bring down the Maverick to his and Volya's level, but in that split second he hesitated.

_He's out of position, he's not on the designated point, thehostagesare-_

"HAWKINS!" Volya bellowed.

That was enough to get Hawkins moving. The initial flash from the Aether Flare hadn't even faded, the dust from the blast had only begin to spread, and Hawkins was already half way through the expanding cloud of debris.

The Maverick 'Prettyboy' had been pacing around the room, clearly growing nervous, but in the moment just before Huey called the sniper going down, something had grabbed his attention. He'd started for the exit of the hostage room, which put him just out of range of Hawkins' trap. It had given him perhaps one additional second to live, and he never even saw his killer, his back still turned to the newly opened hole in the floor behind him. In one smooth motion, Hawkins swung one of his tomahawks into the small of the Maverick's back, twisted the blade vertically, then ripped it upwards, taking special care to guide the weapon just around the reactor as it traveled up and eventually out the top of his head.

Prettyboy coughed with surprised as he fell forward, before a second swing of the tomahawk neatly removed his head from his body.

"That's one!"

Behind Hawkins, the hostages began screaming. Ignoring them, the Vulpinoid charged out of the room into the main lobby, one tomahawk raised high above his head as he sighted in on 'Shortwire', who was starting to leave his seat while rapidly typing in several commands on his security console.

_HE'S GONNA DETONATE THE EXPLOSIVES _Hawkins thought in a panic as he threw his tomahawk as hard and as fast as he could while still bounding forward towards the Maverick. His aim was good, but it hadn't been a killshot. He would review this moment later and still feel proud that he'd managed to knock the Maverick away from the console while taking out a limb, but also how he had believed he'd been too late.

A guttural roar escaped his throat as he bore down on the Maverick, who could only raise his remaining limb in feeble defense before Hawkins drove his remaining tomahawk through the Maverick's forearm and into his head. He watched as the light behind Shortwire's eyes fade away. Even with an ax between both eyes, something about his expression struck the Hunter as incredibly sad-

_"YOU IDIOT, CHECK LEFT!"_ Jenna shouted over the net.

Leaping back his second kill, he turned his eyes in the direction of his potential third victim as he brandished a buster and mag-pistol at him, the shots going wide.

_These people don't even count as amateurs._

That was when Volya reached him, the twin flares of his dash thrusters fading just as his green shortblade lashed outward, cleaning cutting off both of Gault's arms in a single slash just behind the elbow. The stumps glowed bright orange as the waved ineffectually at the air as Volya grabbed the Maverick by a shoulder, spun it around to face him, shortblade pointed right at the control chip. Just behind him, Goat and Lu simultaneously began to stand from the corpses of their own targets.

* * *

><p><em> High explosive ordnance selected? Possibility of civilian casualties minimized if shell is detonated on contact with front barricade. Subject NilsGoat is better prepared for this scenario than outward appearance suggests._

Knowing that Goat was slower, Lu did not immediately begin charging forward the moment the heavier reploid fired his bazooka. He waited until Goat had just about reached what was left of the front entrance, watched as he batted aside what was left of the entryway and the makeshift barricade beyond. Then he moved. A moment later, he was beside Goat, attempting to slow himself down, not having anticipated the sudden loss of traction . In the next, he was ahead of him, a mag-pistol pointed at his head.

_Target Designated 'Vitrous', female-humanoid type reploid-_

Lu's internal analysis was interrupted when the pistol fired. It was a glancing blow that shattered a part of his protective helmet. Superficial damage that could have been worse had he not spun to the left.

Vitrous attempted to readjust her own aim-

Completing the spin, Lu swatted the arm with the gun out of his way, sending the weapon and part of the hand that held it across the room so hard that they would later be found embedded in the roof of the lobby.

As he knocked the gun away, Lu brought his right hand around, slamming a pilebunker into Vitrous' soft, unprotected belly. A moment later, the pilebunker lanced through her body, tearing her in half, sending her torso spiraling away. Her legs stood in place for one moment, then crumpled to the floor just as Lu threw himself over them to tackle what was left of Vitrous to the floor. They slid several feet, carving a small path through the tiles before stopping.

She did not have time to finish her cry for assistance. With clinical precision, Lu drove the pilebunker through her control chip, through her head. She convulsed one last time, her hands brushing across his helmet, and that was that.

"Target silenced," Lu announced. To his right, he noticed that Goat had already terminated his Maverick.

_Reassessment: Sub-Commander Nils/Goat notably capable during high-speed combat._

That did not sit well with Lu, but he could not describe how or why.

* * *

><p>Glaring down at the crippled Maverick whimpering before him, knowing that Zephyr had quickly and decisively put down the "Steel Pirates" nearly effortlessly, part of Volya was composing words of praise for his team. He was proud of their effort.<p>

Not satisfied.

The Steel Pirates, whatever they may have been, were nothing in the larger scheme of things. They weren't even practice. They likely had nothing to do with the strange orders the GDC units had received. Whatever conspiracy Volya believed to be at work that had brought Zephyr Team to Australia today, they were at best a convenience, and more than likely a happy coincidence.

There was another part of Volya, another part that he worked even harder to restrain, that wanted to kill this Maverick slowly. Wanted to make him suffer. In the brief moments before rushing out to the lobby to intercept the Maverick ringleader, he managed to get a look at the faces of the hostages. He could imagine, with great detail, what could have happened if they had failed, or if Zephyr had never arrived.

The Hunters that they were assigned to would have allowed this to happen. The GDC apparently had some interest in letting this happen.

"Unacceptable." Volya said, raising his shortblade high over the Maverick's head. The stumps that remained of Gault's arms tried to move into the path of the oncoming magnetically bottled plasma, and failed. "Unforgiveable."

The beam saber passed easily through Gault's head, just to the side of the crystalline casing at the center of his forehead, and the Maverick spasmed violently, only held in place by Volya's hand on his shoulder. Then he tore the saber slowly through Gault's head until he saw the control chip vanish in a short-lived flash as it met plasma.

"Secure the hostages, and call in the local units." Volya said before turning on his heel and stalking his way out of the bank. "Mission accomplished."

* * *

><p>The Stormcrow Polycraft had touched down inside of the cordoned off area, and its turbofans had whined down to lifelessness. The human technician who had been carted along for the ride was on her knees, expelling every scrap of food that had been in her stomach. Beside her, Huey rubbed her back sympathetically. "Oh, come on, Osborne! That went pretty smoothly, I thought!"<p>

"You're such a bastard." She rasped, then turned and started heaving again.

The footsteps of Goat, and the rest of the team, drew the pilot's attention away from his charge. Volya, resplendent in his black longcoat and eyepatch, stopped three feet away from Huey and stared at him. The pilot absently scratched his face.

"I got a little something on me?"

Volya blinked. "You are something of a wild card…but you are a good pilot. Why, though, did you N.O.E. instead of the high-altitude flight pattern originally designated?"

"Once Sentinel told me that there'd be press polys airborne at higher altitudes, it cut down on my options of ingress." Huey said, retaining a certain level of lucidity. Though it seemed to come and go, putting him in the pilot's seat again seemed to have balanced him for a time. "To get to all of you in time, to catch their sniper unawares, to attack him while minimizing exposure to enemy fire, a low altitude approach was the best option. Also, the trickiest."

Volya grunted. The rest of Zephyr Team formed around them as the police ran into the security cordon and rushed to secure the hostages. "Very well." The Russian reploid glanced to his team, sizing all of them up. Though there had been some minor glitches, some areas of personal aberrancy that didn't sit well with him, his team had succeeded. The Mavericks had been neutralized in less than half a minute, the hostages were secure. The day was theirs. In the end, did a few minor flaws in an otherwise flawless performance matter?

He decided they did not. There was enough he was already thinking about.

"Very well." He said again, nodding to all of them. "We have done what we came here to do. Sentinel, your oversight was appreciated."

_"Keep this up, you'll make a girl blush." _Jenna answered. There was a smile in her voice. _"See you all back at base, Zephyr Team."_ The connection cut off.

Volya nodded to the others. "Set warp generators for MHHQ. Return to base."

"Roger, boss." Morgan chuckled. "I suppose I can't bring the Stormcrow with me?"

"Do you think the Australian government would let you teleport off with a multi-million credit polycraft, Huey?"

"No, but it'd make one Hell of a Christmas present…"

"Enough, Morgan." Goat wearily said.

A camera crew and a reporter who had likely ignored the order to fall back completely raced up to them, cutting off their conversation. The woman reporter shoved a microphone into Volya's face. "Susan Trace, Electrosphere 8 News. You and your men successfully put down a hostage crisis that has spun out of control. Tell us a little about yourselves."

Volya stared at her with his good eye, pleased that none of Zephyr Team offered any comment or remarks to this leech. He gave Goat a sidewards glance. "Go."

The towering reploid nodded and disappeared in a beam of warplight, and Huey, Hawkins, and Lu followed him.

"Sir?" The reporter repeated. Volya gave his head a shake.

"We are Maverick Hunters. Beyond that, we have no comment."

He teleported away, leaving the mess of Australia behind.

* * *

><p><em>MHHQ, New Tokyo<em>

_Corridor 5-B_

To the others on station in the MHHQ's War Room, the presence of the European "Navigator" had been a puzzling oddity. She had strolled in, examined the news feeds, and then made a call. A few minutes later, the rest of Zephyr Team had shown up, and they had spoken about something in animated language off in a corner where nobody could hear them. Then Zephyr Team had left, and Jenna had stayed behind for a few minutes more before leaving herself. They hadn't noticed, in all the hubbub and their own business, how she set up an override relay for the Electrosphere uplink.

Safely within the confines of Corridor 5-B, Zephyr Team's domain, Jenna removed her wireless earpiece and pulled her consciousness back into her body completely. The simple act of going offline was like taking a long, deep breath: It was a lot of work to do the sort of high-intensity, high-focus system commandeering and controlling that she had just pulled off. She was good at it, and calling it "Hacking" was like saying Picasso had been a finger painter.

Along with the sudden ease of strain of her mind, there was a sense of exhilaration she couldn't shake. Sure, Volya still had found ways to complain about their performance, surely it was the Russian in him that did that, but Zephyr Team had proven they had the right stuff.

An impossible hostage situation, a dangerous group of Mavericks. All civilians rescued. All targets neutralized. Sloppy or not, they got the job done.

Pulling out all her feelers from the Electrosphere and the MHHQ systems also allowed the defensive measures she'd put into play to lapse. The EM barriers and elevator lockouts dissipated, and within seconds, a small force of four Maverick Hunters appeared in the commons room with the hiss and crash of teleport beams. 6th Unit members, if Jenna remembered their faces correctly. They took notice of Jenna, and though they didn't raise their weapons, at least two of them wanted to.

"Well, hello there." Jenna greeted them pleasantly. "Can I help you?"

The apparent leader rolled his eyes. "Dr. Cain would like a word with you and the rest of Zephyr Team."

"I imagine he would." Jenna almost hummed. While they waited, she continued to pack up her gear, which almost had the Hunters apoplectic. Once they realized she was just boxing up the equipment, rather than using it, they relaxed a little. Just a little.

Then at last, the distinctive sound of Dr. Cain's cane tapping outside the commons room signaled an end to the waiting. The door slid open, and the leader of the MHHQ trudged into the room with a scowl.

"Do you mind telling me why you decided to lock yourself into 5-B, disable all access points short of cutting through the floor or ceiling, and then disrupt MHHQ Electrosphere operations?"

"I simply borrowed most of the MHHQ's bandwidth. I didn't _disrupt_ anything." Jenna countered, crossing her arms.

"Then why the lockdown?"

"Would you have let me fiddle with the uplink if I had asked?" Jenna pointedly countered.

"No!" He snapped, and she nodded at him with a _'there you go'_ look. The old man grimaced. "Where the Hell is Volya? If he authorized this stunt of yours, I'll…"

"Wait a minute." Jenna blinked, trying to catch up. "You mean you don't know?"

"Know…what?" Cain demanded with exasperation.

The Navigator sighed. "Do you have an Electrosphere-capable datapad on you?"

Curious now, Cain reached into his robe and pulled one out. "It's my personal pad, so I'll need to put in my password." Jenna almost told Cain that she _knew_ his password, but wisely refrained. He was peeved enough already.

After a few taps and swipes, Cain handed the device over. Jenna took it and brought up her browser, running a quick search for breaking news in Australia. It didn't take long to find it.

"We all accepted the fact that you and the rest of the staff here didn't think very highly of us." Jenna said, pulling up a recorded video feed. "But we were sent here to do a job. Maybe nobody thought we were capable of being a part of the MHHQ. Maybe we were sent here as a publicity stunt, an experiment that was supposed to fail and then get quietly swept under the rug. The fact is, nobody on Zephyr Team enjoys being used." She waited for Cain to contradict her, but the geriatric merely tilted his head to the side slightly, narrowed his eyes, and waited for her to go on.

"There was a hostage situation in Australia involving a group of dangerous Mavericks." She turned the datapad around and held the screen up for Cain to see.

Behind a backdrop of rescued civilians and a damaged bank, Commander Volya almost looked heroic, in spite of his black longcoat and eyepatch.

_"We are Maverick Hunters." _The recording of his voice intoned.

Cain looked up at Jenna and blinked. The old man suddenly found he had no bluster left in him.

* * *

><p><em>March 3<em>_rd__, Evening_

News of Zephyr Team's successful mission in Australia spread like wildfire through the MHHQ, once the Electrosphere was running at full steam. Some were surprised that they had succeeded. A few others went for indignance: Who had told them to take that mission on? It hadn't been assigned through the usual channels. It had been Hazil who had silenced the grumbling in the cafeteria with one of his trademark angry doctor glares and the biting remark, _"Then let's see you do what they did,"_ before peeling out on his treads and leaving skids on the floor. On the whole, the world seemed pleased. It made for a nice soundbite on the news, at least.

_"…and here's a bit of good news, for a change. A bank robbery perpetrated by Mavericks in Australia threatened to spiral out of control earlier today. Thankfully, a crack team of Maverick Hunters out of New Tokyo arrived on the scene to put the Mavericks down, and did so while preventing any human casualties. They have since been identified as Zephyr Team, the GDC-sponsored Unit. After completing their mission, they warped off without ceremony. So here's to you, Zephyr Team. Let's hope they send you out if I'm ever in trouble!"_

Dr. Cain lifted his remote up and clicked the monitor off. He set it on the side of his desk and looked to Volya, who stood at attention, in spite of Cain's suggestion for him to relax. At Cain's side was Commander X, who scrutinized Volya in a much deeper way than he had before. Volya surmised the Azure Hunter was developing a sense of unease about him and his men. A tactical review had shown that, in spite of the few glaring errors Volya had made a note of, Zephyr Team had deployed rather effectively.

"Well." Dr. Cain finally spoke up. Volya turned his eye from X to the MHHQ's figurehead and waited. "Well." Cain said again, clearing his throat. "I like to applaud my Commanders when they take initiative, but you certainly have pushed that practice to a shatterpoint."

"Indeed?" Volya mused.

"You and your men have done nothing but train since you got here. And as swamped as we've been, I just haven't had the time to find a mission suitable for you." Cain lifted a hand, anticipating a quick response. "But that isn't to say I was just going to let you rot in your quarters."

"Of course." Volya said, agreeing with Cain while not believing the man's sentiment one iota.

"At the end of the day, your actions saved lives." Mega Man X cut in, saving Dr. Cain from his own ramblings. "And you also acted in the best interests of, as well as by the highest standards of this organization. We save the innocent and punish the guilty."

Volya looked between the two consideringly. "So. What happens now?"

"As X pointed out, you did well." Cain sighed. "So we keep working. And you and Zephyr Team get some actual assignments. Just do me a favor, Commander. The next time your Navigator runs an operation, ask her if she wouldn't mind _not_ using all our Electrosphere bandwidth."

"I will make that recommendation." Volya nodded. "Is there anything else?"

"One last thing." X nodded. He picked up an old-fashioned manila envelope from the desk and spun it through the air. Volya caught it in his sword hand and stared at it questioningly. "Seeing as you're official Maverick Hunters now, I thought that you might as well look the part. They're Unit insignias."

Volya opened the flap of the envelope and slid one of the weighted metallic emblems into his palm. It had a weak sympathetic magnetic clamp on the back, intended to connect to the shoulder or chestplate of a reploid. The number 18 was engraved on the forward facing surface of it, and underneath was a picture of a roaring blast of gale-force wind.

"Since you're called Zephyr Team, I figured that might be appropriate." X went on. "Do you know the etymology of that name?"

"It is from Greek mythology. The god of the west wind." Volya said. He slid his coat back and pressed the insignia to his right shoulder. "West winds were said to bring good fortune to sailors."

"Let's hope that you are favored by the winds as well." Dr. Cain finished. He folded his hands together and leaned back away from his desk. "Dismissed, Commander Volya."

Volya came to attention and proffered a salute He held it for a full second, then turned about and left. The door hissed open and then shut behind him with its usual click.

Alone in the blue-lit office, Dr. Cain sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm amazed this job hasn't killed me."

X glanced down at him with a smile. "Oh, and I suppose you believe you'd be better off hooked up to a life support machine the size of a large chair?"

"Pft. No. No, I'll die when it's my time, and all those doctors can go bugger themselves." Cain snorted. He looked back at X. "That's why Hazil's my personal physician; at least he knows to keep those machines out of me. What do you really think of Volya and his team?"

"I think they're capable." X admitted. "Whether or not they can fit in around here is another matter. I suspect, though, that they just don't care. In their eyes, they're here to do a job. They'll do it whether or not we approve of them and their methods or not."

"So, it's better to support them then, and stay in their good graces. Now I know why you had those Unit badges made up." Cain reached into a desk drawer and pulled out his aspirin. "What does Zero think of all this?"

"You know Zero: He's more worried about the results than the method. He actually **liked** their plan."

"Ha! I thought he was obsessed with style these days." Cain wiped at the corner of his eye. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You two are like oil and water in your opinions. How you ended up as best friends is beyond me."

"Kind of hard not to be when you're the two fallback Hunters to keep the world from going to Hell."

"Yeah, I suppose. But I don't think you're alone anymore."

"We never were." X affirmed.

* * *

><p><em>Zephyr Team's Quarters<em>

_Commons Room_

True to his word, Goat had a six-pack of beers waiting for the team to celebrate their victory. It was an extravagance, but then, so were reploids eating in the cafeteria and so many other amenities around the MHHQ which the Hunters took for granted.

"To us!" Huey whooped, lifting up his beverage in a makeshift toast. "To the 18th Unit, and the best damn squad!"

"Hear, hear." Hawkins nodded, a tad more reserved than the wild-eyed pilot.

Jenna rotated hers in her hand. "Hm. I don't normally drink beer…but, since this is a party, why not?"

The good cheer of the five popped like a soap bubble when Volya walked into the room, as stern as ever in his black longcoat. The Russian reploid gave the celebration in progress a long look, then turned to Goat.

"I hope you have one for me."

Goat laughed, tossing the last can at his commander. "Of course, Volya. Six people, six beers."

"That is an improvement." Volya drawled. "Usually, Nils, you keep two for yourself."

"Wow, you're in a good mood." The Swiss reploid deduced. "I take it things went well with Dr. Cain?"

Volya popped the seal and took a long swallow, pacing the conversation. "Though they found things to complain about, namely Sentinel…" He nodded towards Jenna meaningfully, "…it seems that our actions have been met with general approval."

"Just like you thought they'd react, Commander." Hawkins realized. "How did you know that?"

"Experience." Volya explained, seeming older than all of them in that moment. He took another swallow and grimaced. "Bah."

"Let me guess: You would prefer Vodka?" Jenna teased him, tossing back her red hair.

"Actually, he drinks rum." Goat cut in. "When he can find it."

"Vodka will do in a pinch, but it has no character." Volya went on. He set his beer to the side and pulled a manila envelope from the interior of his coat. "Commander X also had one other thing for us besides congratulations." He shook out a handful of small metallic disks and passed them around to his men. "If we are Maverick Hunters, we must look like Maverick Hunters."

"Wow." Huey turned the insignia over and over in his hands, savoring the feel of it. "This is nice. I needed a new dealer's token for Texas Hold 'Em."

"Do you ever turn off the crazy, or is lucidity beyond you?" Hawkins grumbled. He fingered his own for a moment, then clipped it to his right shoulder. "It looks better than my old one. Thanks, Commander."

Volya grunted in reply and looked to Lu. "Well?"

The blockish reploid shook his head. "This icon has no augmentive characteristics. It will not improve battle performance. It appears purely decorative: A waste of materials."

"Perhaps in your eyes, that is all it will ever be." Volya cautioned him. "But you only get one, Lu. Consider that incentive to improve on your survival instincts: Should you die, any further replacement will be lacking it. **You** are Zephyr 4, the reploid we call comrade. Be worthy of that respect."

Lu considered his Commander's warning. "I shall try." He clipped it to his chest.

"Well, isn't that nice." Jenna crossed her arms, frowning at them. "I didn't know you'd turn into a boy's only club at the first opportunity. Should I leave and go knit something?"

Volya turned about and shook his head. "Hardly." He held up one more 18th Unit insignia. "This is yours, Navigator. You have earned it the same as the rest of us. Perhaps…" He struggled with what seemed like an apology, then chickened out of it. "Perhaps having a Navigator is useful after all. I would prefer that you stay on as ours."

Stunned at the unusually gentle request, Jenna said nothing for a moment. She finally nodded and stood at attention. "As ordered. Commander Volya."

Volya handed her the insignia, settling into a very uneasy smile. "One other thing. Dr. Cain wished me to ask you not to use MHHQ bandwidth so exclusively next time. Could you find a way to cultivate other options?"

"I could put out a few feelers, I suppose." Jenna nodded. "Maybe I could use my old authorizations to hardline GDC Electrosphere assets to here. Or would you prefer I find some new ones?"

"I would prefer you do all of that." Volya said. "I favor redundancy." He polished off his beer and set the empty can to the side. "It is my understanding that this mission was suggested by Nils, but that the rest of you agreed with it. I might not have gone along with the idea if you had not been so unified about it. I am glad you were."

"Hey, we needed a win." Hawkins pointed out. "Did it matter how we got it, boss?"

Volya harrumphed. "I suppose not." He gave them all a nod. "Nils. Why don't you take everyone to _The Last Round_ for a drink? Use my authorization code to settle the tab: I believe you know it?"

"Yes, sir." Nils nodded. Volya turned about and exited the room.

"Oh. If you all could, have your mission reports on my desk before morning exercises. We are going to try the Karashita Tower Nightmare run again…and this time, Jenna, use your full program capabilities. If the technicians argue, have Lu shove them out the door."

"Query: Nonlethally, Commander?" Lu asked.

Volya chuckled and walked out.

* * *

><p>A faint sliver of light leaked out from underneath Commander Volya's office door, illuminating the empty corridor of 5-B. Nils, Lu, Hawkins and Jenna were all still celebrating at <em>The Last Round<em>, but Huey had succumbed to his nervousness and excused himself from the party. For as talkative as he was, Morgan struggled to stay afloat in social situations. Had he always been introverted like that? His brain, muzzy to begin with, wasn't doing any better while his body struggled to filter out the alcohol he'd imbibed. He wagered a hesitant guess that that hadn't always been the case.

The pilot stopped outside of Volya's door and listened: He could make out faint scratching noises inside. His curiosity got the better of him, and Morgan rapped on the door. The noise inside stopped, and a moment later, the door unlocked and slid open.

Volya was sitting at his desk, his longcoat folded up and set beside him. A pad of paper was sitting in front of him, and he gripped an old-fashioned pencil in his hand. The leader of the 18th Unit offered a barely noticeable nod. "Morgan."

"I knew you liked old-fashioned things, but damn." Huey chuckled. "More paper. And it's not an easy thing to come by these days."

"Are you here to submit your report?" Volya asked, smoothly changing the subject.

"My report? What?" Morgan furrowed his eyebrows, trying to think. "Oh…Ohh, right. Ah, no. No, I sort of forgot."

"Your last mission report was less than satisfactory as well." Volya motioned to the empty visitor's chairs. "Sit down."

"Are you gonna bitch at me now? Because my confidence is pretty fragile, and I only just got a little of it back." Morgan sulked as he plopped down in front of Volya, expecting a tirade.

Instead, Volya reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a small device. He set it on the desk in front of Morgan and pushed a red button. The thing chirped, and a light flickered on.

Huey stared at it. "That's a voice recorder."

"You noticed."

"And it's recording."

_"Da."_

"So…you want evidence of me being chewed out?" Morgan reasoned.

Volya sighed, a sound which resembled a low, irritated growl. "I want you to tell me your version of our mission today. IT was my judgment that you might have more success with composing your mission reports if you didn't have to write them."

"Ah." Morgan scratched at his head. "Well…the bad guys were pretty well hunkered down. I flew in at street level and blasted the sniper with shock gel…and then you all finished the job." Huey blinked and looked at Volya. "Is that enough?"

Volya hit the stop button and stowed the recorder. "It will do." He looked out of his one good eye. "I used my clearance to get a more detailed look at your service record, Morgan. You were quite an accomplished pilot in New Denver."

"I was?" Huey seemed confused. "Uh, I mean, sure I was."

"You were checked out on every polycraft in the police arsenal. You received numerous citations for valor and courage under fire. As a matter of fact, you even received a personal letter of thanks from New Denver's mayor after you and the MSWAT unit you supported saved his life."

"Letters were cheaper than a promotion." Morgan replied bitterly. Volya blinked at the moment of clarity, filing it away. As soon as it had come, Huey's awareness slipped back into the fog of amused confusion. "Hey, did my file tell you about my favorite ice cream? It's Butter Brickle!"

"I also learned why you were imprisoned and put in active stasis for 18 months." Volya went on. He folded his hands together and angled his head closer to his subordinate.

"It was discovered that you had been purchasing military grade munitions and gear with MSWAT accounts and your own salary. Your former squadmates reported that you would "Supply them" with these items during intense deployments, to the benefit of the team."

"Wow. I was a frigging saint." Huey joked.

"When your actions were discovered, you were crucified instead of congratulated. Regardless of your motivations, you were charged with embezzling police funds, purchasing and owning unlicensed and restricted materials, and conduct unbecoming an MSWAT officer." Volya watched Huey closely for a reaction. "After a trial that lasted all of two hours, you were found guilty and sentenced to incarceration in active stasis. You remained there…until two weeks ago."

Morgan stared back blankly.

"An interesting career." Volya concluded. "What do you have to say on it?"

"I'm not really sure." Huey squinted his entire face up. "I…I don't know. They said I did something wrong. It didn't feel wrong, though. Torque would have died in that one raid if I hadn't given him that kinetic mesh body armor. And that GBU-88 mortar? Going in through the inner, non-load bearing wall saved all those hostages." He was reciting missions that had occurred during his time in New Denver, and was surprised he could recall that much detail for a change.

Volya kept silent, not wanting to break his subordinate's focus. Only when Morgan had finally, atypically, shut up, did Volya speak again. "Do you remember enough to do it again?"

"Whutnow?"

"Do you…"

"Yeah, I heard you the first time, I'm just confused." Morgan removed his helmet and rubbed at the top of his head. "You want me to do the thing that got me dumped into a living Hell?"

"Yes." Volya nodded again. "Let us just say…I do not trust our presence here. It all seems too arranged. If you had the funds, could you build up an off-the-books weapons cache?"

"Sure. Might take me a couple of weeks to get in touch with my old contacts again. They don't exactly advertise in the yellow pages."

"Ah." Volya nodded. "A joke."

Morgan slapped his forehead. "He gets that one. Jesus." The pilot was still reluctant. "I don't want to go back to prison, Commander."

"Consider my informal request a direct order." Volya clarified.

"Ooh, nice. Now I'm covered. If this blows up in our faces, they go after you, eh?" Huey grinned.

"They can try." Volya motioned to Huey. "This conversation never happened. I will leave you a note tomorrow with an overseas bank account. After that, you will tell no one of what you are doing. Not even me, unless I ask. Understood?"

"Yeah. I don't get why you're doing this, exactly…but I like it. Okay, Commander. I'll take care of it."

"Good. You are dismissed, then."

Morgan put his helmet back on, but didn't move for the door. Volya looked up, waiting. "Yes?"

Morgan blinked rapidly, an unsure and unsteady sorrow on his face. "I'm not crazy." Volya tapped his desk once, and Morgan forged on. "I'm not crazy. I know everyone says that I'm crazy, but I'm not. Not really. I just…"

He looked down at the floor. "Sometimes, I have trouble remembering things. Sometimes I forget who I were. Was. **Am.** Damnit." He grit his teeth. "I know that I lost something down there, that maybe I'll never get it back. But I'm trying, Volya." He looked up woodenly. "I'm not crazy."

An unusually sympathetic look came over his Commander's face. "I never said you were." Morgan nodded back in a gesture of thanks, and then disappeared to bunk out for the night.

Volya leaned his chair back and looked up at the ceiling, exhaling softly.

"You may be the sanest one of us all."


End file.
